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BROOKE'S  'ROMEUS  AND 
JULIET'     BEING     THE 
ORIGINAL    OF    SHAKES 
PEARE'S    'ROMEO     AND    ' " 
JULIET '  NEWLY  EDITED  , 
BY  J.  J.  MUNRO  *• 


| 

•        *     <*; 


NEW  YORK 

DUFFIELD   AND   COMPANY 
LONDON  :    CHATTO    fc?  WINDUS 

1908 


WEEVER'S   SONNET, 
Ad  Gulielmum  Shakespeare. 


HONEY-TONGUED    SHAKESPEARE,    WHEN    I    SAW    THINE    ISSUE, 

I    SWORE    APOLLO    GOT    THEM    AND    NONE    OTHER, 
THEIR    ROSY-TAINTED    FEATURES    CLOTHED    IN    TISSUE, 

SOME    HEAVEN-BORN    GODDESS    SAID    TO    BE    THEIR    MOTHER: 
ROSE-CHEEKED    ADONIS    WITH    HIS    AMBER    TRESSES, 

FAIR    FIRE-HOT    VENUS    CHARMING    HIM    TO    LOVE    HER, 
CHASTE    LUCRETIA    VIRGIN-LIKE    HER    DRESSES, 

PROUD    LUST-STUNG    TARQUIN    SEEKING    STILL    TO    PROVE    HER  5 
ROMEO,    RICHARD,    MORE,    WHOSE    NAMES    I    KNOW    NOT, 

THEIR    SUGARED    TONGUES,    AND    POWER    ATTRACTIVE    BEAUTY 
SAY    THEY    ARE    SAINTS,    ALTHOUGH    THAT    SAINTS   THEY    SHOW    NOT, 

FOR    THOUSANDS    VOW    TO    THEM    SUBJECTIVE    DUTY! 
THEY    BURN    IN    LOVE    THY    CHILDREN,    SHAKESPEARE,    HET   THEM, 
GO,    WOO    THY    MUSE    MORE    NYMPHISH    BROOD    BEGET    THEM. 

Epigrammes  in  the  oldest  cut,  and  newest  fashion,  etc. 
EPIG.  22. 


THE  SHAKESPEARE  LIBRARY. 
GENERAL  EDITOR  PROFESSOR 
I.  GOLLANCZ,  LITT.D. 


ROMEUS   AND   JULIET 


All  Rights  reserved. 


\ 


T"  1J  Z?     *T*rt>  .*  f*  If*"  S  T    T       TJ  7  O 

JL  JrJ.fi    L-{c^A \jl\~J.  Li L*riL&* 
torye  offymeus  And  Met ,  writ 
tcnfirft  in  Italian 

-and  nbtoe  in  Englifie  by 
Ar.  'Br. 


INTRODUCTION 
General   Consideration    of    the    Story. — The 

Middle  Ages  have  left  us  many  tales  of  unhappy  love, 
wherein  the  golden  promise  of  youthful  passion  is  trans 
formed  by  unkindly  circumstance  into  woe  and  death. 
Such  tales  were  generally  produced  by  a  process  of  growth 
occupying  many  years  and  passing  from  land  to  land. 

Perhaps  the  most  beautiful  and  tragic,  certainly  the 
most  famous  and  highly  developed  of  such  old  tales  is  the 
history  of  Romeo  and  Juliet.  Its  real  origin  is  involved  in 
much  obscurity  ;  but  as  Boswell1  and  Simrock2  first  pointed 
out,  the  story,  in  its  principal  elements,  possesses  striking 
analogy  to  the  older  love-tales  of  Hero  and  Leander,  and 
Pyramus  and  Thisbe,  and  Tristan  and  Isolde.  This  analogy, 
however,  should  not  be  unduly  pressed :  it  would  be  too 
much  to  say  that  its  existence  proves  organic  connexion 
between  these  stories,  although  an  exceedingly  remote 
relationship  is  possible ;  a  number  of  other  tales,  like  that 
of  Ulysses  and  Penelope,  possess  too  an  analogy  in  some 
respects  with  Romeo,  but  can  have  no  relation  to  it.  Cino 

IBoswell's  Forewords  to  Romeo  and  Juliet,  1821,  V.  vi.,  p.  265. 
2   Karl   Simrock    on    the   Plots   of   Shakespeare's    Plays,   ed.   Halliiaell 
Shak.  Soc.,  1850. 

b 


x  INTRODUCTION 

Chiarlni1  and  Keightley2  are  two  of  those  who  are  apt 
to  press  the  connexion  too  much,  in  considering  Pyramus 
and  Thisbe  as  the  ultimate  source  of  the  Romeo  legend. 
This  theory  of  absolute  relationship  with  one  ancient 
story  is  hardly  tenable  in  the  light  of  evidence  which  we 
subsequently  adduce,  and  the  fact  that  the  simple  theme 
of  two  distressed  lovers  would  call  forth  the  same  type 
of  story  in  different  minds,  may  explain  some  of  the 
similarity. 

In  the  three  principal  stories  mentioned  above,  the 
theme,  on  examination,  is  found  to  be  the  same  and 
consists  of  two  main  elements : 

(a)  the  separation  of  two  lovers  by  some  obstacle ; 

(b)  their  ruin   brought  about    by  an   error  which 

one  holds  in  regard  to  the  other,  or  by  a 
misfortune,  which,  happening  to  one,  the 
other  shares. 

Pyramus  and  Thisbe  are  separated  by  a  wall ;  they 
attempt  to  meet  at  the  tomb  of  Ninus,  where  nothing  shall 
part  them,  but  where  Pyramus,  thinking  Thisbe  dead, 
slays  himself;  whereupon,  Thisbe  kills  herself  also.  Hero 
and  Leander  are  parted  by  the  Hellespont,  which  Leander 
swims  in  order  to  reach  Hero ;  Hero's  guiding  light  is  one 


1  Romeo  e  Giulietta,  La  Storia  Degli  Amantl  Veronesi  nelle  Novelle 
Italians  e  nella  Tragedia  di  Shakespeare,  novamente  tradotta  da  Cino 
Chiariniy  Firenze,  1906,  pp.  xix-xx.  This  book  contains  reprints  of 
Da  Porto  and  Bandello. 

2Furness's  Variorum  Romeo,  p.  408. 


INTRODUCTION  xi 

night  extinguished,  and  Leander  loses  heart  and  drowns; 
Hero  drowns  herself  on  the  following  morning  on  seeing 
his  body  washed  ashore.  Isolde  and  Tristan  are  parted 
by  precepts  of  honour,  Isolde  being  married  to  Mark; 
Tristan  has,  moreover,  killed  a  kinsman  of  Isolde,  and 
is  therefore  the  natural  enemy  of  her  people;  Isolde, 
however,  goes  to  Tristan,  but  he  dies  through  false  news 
concerning  her ;  Isolde  herself  dies  on  the  body  of  her 
lover,  seeing  his  sad  fate. 

Now  taking  Tristan  and  Isolde,  the  most  northerly,  and 
perhaps  the  most  evolved  of  these  tales  (excepting  Romeo), 
we  see  an  advance  on  the  other  two :  the  obstacle  between 
the  lovers  is  no  longer  principally  material,  but  is  moral ; 
and  the  slaying  of  the  kinsman  is  a  new  and  impor 
tant  feature.  These  developments  are  carried  further  in 
Romeo. 

Besides  these  three  old  tales,  however,  there  are  two 
others  not  previously  noticed  in  this  connexion,  and 
exceedingly  popular  in  the  Middle  Ages,  which  also  bear 
close  analogy  to  Romeo ;  these  are  Trot/us  and  Cressida,  and 
Floris  and  Blanchefleur.  The  story  of  the  first  pair  of  lovers 
briefly  is,  that  Troilus,  who  scorns  love,  sees  Cressida,  and 
falls  in  love  with  her.  Troilus  pines ;  his  friend  Pandarus 
comes  to  his  aid  with  good  counsel,  and  promises  to  win 
Cressida  for  him.  Pandarus  persuades  Cressida,  who  pities 
Troilus,  and  finally  consents  to  allow  him  to  go  to  her 
bedside.  They  pass  nights  together,  all  their  arrange 
ments  being  made  by  the  friendly  Pandarus,  their  mutual 


-.- 

v   -  "    ;•<?  v- 

&    '^.T-:     :?• 


xii  INTRODUCTION 

messenger.  Calchas,  however,  Cressida's  father,  has  de 
serted  Troy  and  joined  the  Greeks,  and  he  prevails  on 
his  new  friends  to  ask  for  the  exchange  of  Cressida  for 
their  own  Antenor.  The  parliament  of  Troy  consents  to 
this.  The  grief  of  the  lovers  at  the  prospect  of  this  parting 
is  uncontrollable,  and  each  is  comforted  by  the  philosophic 
Pandarus.  Troilus  goes  to  Cressida  at  night  for  the  last 
time  and  bids  her  farewell  as  the  day  begins  to  dawn. 
Troilus  is  afraid  her  father  will  desire  to  wed  her  to  some 
other  man ;  but  Cressida  swears  constancy  and  promises  to 
return  in  ten  days.  She  is  led  to  the  Greek  host  by 
Diomedes,  who  loves  her  and  woos  her.  His  wooing  is 
so  successful  that  Cressida  breaks  her  promise  to  Troilus  and 
does  not  return.  Letters  pass  between  the  lovers,  and  still 
Troilus  hopes  Cressida  is  true ;  till  one  day  Deiphobus 
captures  the  armour  of  Diomedes  and  Troilus  sees  thereon 
the  brooch  he  has  given  Cressida  :  thereupon  he  swears 
vengeance  on  Diomedes  and  seeks  every  day  to  fight  with 
him,  but  is  slain  by  Achilles.  The  parallelism  between  this 
story  and  Romeo  is  too  apparent  to  require  pointing  out. 

The  romance  of  Troilus  and  Cressida  is  not  of  classical 
origin.  The  earliest  version  of  it  known  to  us  is  in 
Le  Roman  de  Troie,  by  Benoit  de  Sainte-More,1  a  Norman 
poet  of  the  French  court  of  our  English  Henry  II.2  Other 


i  For  a  lengthy  and  able  discussion  of  the  Troilus  story  see  M.  A.  Joly's 
Benoit  de  Ste-More  et  le  Roman  de  Troie,  Paris,  1870  ;  and  Jung's  Origin 
and  Development  of  the  Story  of  Troilus  and  Criseyde,  Chaucer  Society, 
1907.  2j0ly,  p.  109. 


INTRODUCTION  xiii 

poets  had  treated  of  the  siege  of  Troy  before  him,  but 
in  his  book  first  is  the  history  of  Troilus.  M.  Joly  holds 
that  he  produced  his  long  poem  between  1175  and  1185, 
but  the  now  accepted  date  is  about  H6O.1  Bench's  work 
became  speedily  famous  ;  the  story  became  known  in  many 
lands,  not  only  to  the  cultured  people,  but  to  the  populace. 
It  passed  into  histories  and  gestes  and  was  a  favourite  theme 
of  poets.  Its  glory  was  still  further  extended  by  a  Latin 
remanlement  of  Benoit's  poems  by  Guido  delle  Colonne  of 
Messina,  called  the  Historla  Destructions  Trojae,  written  in 
izSy.2  Guide's  production  became  even  more  famous 
than  Benoit's,  and  on  the  advent  of  printing,  the  presses  of 
every  land  in  Europe  were  soon  actively  reproducing  his 
work.3  When  Boccaccio  retold  the  story  in  his  Filostrato, 
he  gave  it  new  life  and  significance.  He  took  his  main 
outlines  from  Guido  and  Benoit,  but  he  owed  little  more 
to  them.  He  wove  into  the  history  the  joy  and  anguish, 
the  sweetness  and  the  bitterness,  of  his  own  love-affair 
—  for  he,  too,  had  lost  his  love,  the  beautiful  Maria, 
whom  he  called  Fiammetta,  and  had  met  at  the  Nea 
politan  court  of  Queen  Giovanna  ;  and  Jung  shows,  too, 
that  his  innovations  are  mainly  due  to  borrowings  from 
the  early  part  of  his  own  Filocolo,  based  on  the  medieval 
romance  of  Floris  and  Blanchefleur.  Benoit  had  occupied 

1  See  Jung,  chap.  I. 

2  Tesfi  Ineditidi  Storia  Trojana  (4  vols.),  by  Egidio  Gorra,  Turin,  1887. 
See  vol.  i.,  pp.  105-6. 

3  Joly,  p.  500. 


: 


xiv  INTRODUCTION 

himself  chiefly  with  the  feelings  of  Briseida  (as  Cressida 
was  then  named) ;  Boccaccio  fixed  attention  chiefly  on 
Troilus.  In  Benoit  and  Guido  there  was  no  Pandarus ; 
Boccaccio  was  solely  responsible  for  his  creation. 

The  great  Italian  version  of  Fhris  and  Blanchefeur  is 
Boccaccio's  Ftlocolo.  I  shall  notice  chiefly  here  the  points 
which  most  interest  us.  Florio  (Floris)  was  the  son  of 
King  Felice  of  Spain  who  had  killed  Lelio,  a  Roman  noble, 
husband  to  Giulia  and  father  to  Biancofiore  (Blanchefleur), 
born  after  his  death.  Biancofiore  was  brought  up  with 
Florio  at  Felice's  court  and  as  the  king  noticed  the  growing 
love  between  the  two  young  people,  he  sent  his  son  away  to 
Duke  Feramonte  in  Montorio  (corresponding  to  Mantua). 
The  Duke  tried  unsuccessfully  to  turn  the  young  man's 
thoughts  from  Biancofiore,  who,  meanwhile,  had  been 
induced  by  the  king,  through  his  steward,  to  serve  the 
guests  at  a  banquet  with  a  poisoned  pheasant,  and  had  been 
on  that  account  condemned  to  be  burnt.  Florio  was 
warned  by  Venus  and  rescued  Biancofiore.  A  rival  to 
Florio  arose  in  Fileno ;  Florio  became  jealous,  and  would 
have  killed  him,  had  he  not  fled.  Felice  then  sent 
Biancofiore  away  by  merchants,  who  sold  her  to  the 
Admiral,  and  she  was  put  in  a  tower  at  Alexandria. 
Felice  then  made  a  sumptuous  tomb  and  gave  out  that 
Biancofiore  was  dead.  Florio  went  to  the  sepulchre  and 
lamented  bitterly,  and  wished  for  death ;  his  mother,  however, 
told  him  the  truth,  and  he  went  in  search  of  Biancofiore, 
eventually  finding  her  and  passing  through  many  adventures. 


INTRODUCTION  xv 

The  noticeable  points  are  the  name  Giulia,  the  mention  of 
Alexandria  (cf.  Masuccio  Salernitano,  later),  the  rivalry  of  the 
two  families,  the  banishment  of  the  hero,  the  incorrect 
publication  of  the  heroine's  death,  and  the  hero's  lamen 
tations  at  the  sepulchre.  Whereas  in  Troilus  the  heroine 
was  banished,  the  hero  is  banished  in  Florlo ;  Diomed  and 
Fileno  correspond  to  Paris ;  Pandarus  corresponds  to 
Laurence.1  The  vacillation  of  Troilus  and  Cressida 
between  joy  and  sorrow  is  the  same  as  that  of  Romeo  and 
Juliet ;  each  pair  pass  the  night  together  and  bid  farewell 
at  morn ;  and  both  pairs  are  helped  and  comforted  by  the 
philosophical  friend.  It  seems  probable  that  these  two 
stories,  told  by  Boccaccio,  passed,  with  others,  into  popular 
tales  and  gave  rise  to  the  legends  which  culminated  in 
Romeo,  and  which,  in  their  literary  expression,  came  again 
under  the  direct  influence  of  Boccaccio.  Similar  popular 
stories,  which  must  have  abounded  in  mediaeval  Italy,  were 
widely  circulated  in  different  forms  by  such  people  as  the 
archer  Pellegrino  of  Da  Porto,2  and  such  evidence  as  we 
have  tends  to  show  that  at  an  early  date  the  Romeo  legend 
was  widespread  in  Italy.  Masuccio  Salernitano's  story  is 
told  of  Sienna,  in  Tuscany,  and  his  book  was  printed  in 
Naples ;  Da  Porto,  whose  history  refers  to  Verona,  printed 
his  book  in  Venice;  Bandello's  work  was  published  in 
Lucca ;  and  the  scene  of  Groto's  tragedy  was  laid  in  Adria. 

i  It  should  be  remembered  that  the  Nurse  is  a  later  development,  due 
greatly  to  Brooke  :  the  resemblance  between  Troilus  and  Romeo  was, 
therefore,  even  greater  in  the  earlier  versions.  2  See  p.  xxxi,  below. 


xvi  INTRODUCTION 

All  those  romances  in  which  the  great  feature  is  separation 
leading  to  disastrous  complications,  I  name  "  Separation " 
romances. 

The  source  of  the  Romeo  story,  on  one  side,  was  probably, 
therefore,  a  "Separation"  romance,  or  Separation  romances, 
current  in  Italy,  which,  in  common  with  Trollus  and  Cresnda 
and  Florio  and  Biancofiore,  must  have  possessed : — 

(a)  the  meeting  of  two  lovers,  who,  for  some  reason, 

probably  the  existence  of  a  family  feud,  are  obliged 
to  keep  their  love  secret ; 

(b)  a  philosophical  confidant  who  advises  them  and 

assists  them  to  meet  and  helps  them ; 

(c)  their  betrothal ; 

(d)  their  separation ; 

(e)  an  affecting  parting  scene  at  dawning  ; 

(f)  the  advent  of  a  new  lover,  who  becomes  a  great 

danger  to  the  hero  and  heroine ; 

(g)  disaster  which  ruins  them. 

In  common  with  Tristan  and  Isolde^-  the  Separation 
romance  or  romances,  must  have  possessed  : — 

(/&)  the  slaying  of  one  of  the  heroine's  kinsmen  by  the 

hero,  thus  producing  (d)  above  ; 
(t)  an  attempt  made  by  one  of  the  two  to  reach  the 

other,  probably  in  distress,  perhaps  on  account  of 

(/)  above ; 

*It  should  be  remembered  that  the  Tristan  story  was  well  known  in 
Italy  in  its  Italian  version. 


INTRODUCTION  xvii 

(j)  the  ruin  of  the  lovers,  due  to  disaster,  supposed  or 
real,  which  has  happened  to  one,  again  perhaps  in 
connection  with  (/)  above. 

But  in  Romeo  itself  another  series  of  new  and  important 
features  is  found,  the  actual  marriage  of  the  lovers,  the 
subterfuge  of  the  sleeping  potion,1  and  the  burial  of  the 
heroine  in  the  sepulchre.  This  constitutes  a  distinct  inno 
vation  in  the  cycle,  and  may  well  have  been  borrowed  from 
some  other  source  and  added  to  the  story.  Luckily  there 
exists  a  Middle  Greek  romance  of  the  fifth  century,  in  the 
Ephesiaca  of  Xenophon  of  Ephesus,  which  proves  the  exist 
ence  of  such  a  source :  in  this  tale,  Anthia,  separated  from  her 
husband  by  misfortune,  is  rescued  from  robbers  by  Perilaus, 
who  induces  her,  against  her  will,  to  consent  to  wed  him ; 
but  she  procures  a  poison  (as  she  believes)  from  Eudoxus, 
a  physician,  and  drinks  it,  in  order  to  escape.  She  is  buried 
in  great  pomp,  but  having  merely  swallowed  a  sleeping 
potion,  awakes,  and  is  carried  off  by  thieves  who  plunder 
the  sepulchre.2  The  notable  features  are  that  Anthia  is 
already  married,  is  separated  from  her  husband,  is  forced  to 

1  Sir  B.  W.  Richardson  experimented  with  some  mandrake  obtained 
from  Greece,  and  the  conclusion  is  that  it  must  have  been  this  mandrake 
wine  that  the  friar  gave  Juliet  in  Romeo.    This  was  called  "death-wine" 
by  the  old  Greeks,  and  they  used  it  for  surgical  operations,  as  we  use 
chloroform,  a  dose  having  the  effect  of  causing  apparent  death. — Daily 
Neivs,  23rd  November,  1896. 

See  Note  in  Dr.  Furnivall's  Introduction  to  Romeo,  Century  Shaksperet 
and  note  Brooke's  description  of  the  making  of  Laurence's  powder, 
11.  2127-29. 

2  Dunlop's  History  of  Prose  Fiction,  vol.  i.,  p.  6 1  (ed.  l! 


xviii  INTRODUCTION 

consent  to  wed  Perilaus,  and,  taking  a  potion,  is  buried  as 
if  dead.  Similar  incidents  to  some  of  these  occur  in  the 
Babylonica  of  lamblichus,1  taken,  as  the  author  tells  us,  from 
an  Eastern  book.  Here  Sinonis,  beloved  of  Garmus,  king 
of  Babylon,  flies  with  her  lover,  Rhodanes ;  the  lovers  sleep 
one  night  in  a  sepulchre,  and  are  thought  to  be  corpses  by 
their  pursuers ;  Sinonis  is  seized  by  the  magistrate,  who 
determines  to  send  her  to  Babylon.  The  lovers  provide 
themselves  with  poison,  but  their  guards,  divining  their 
intention,  substitute  a  soporific  draught,  which  the  lovers 
swallow.2  They  awake  from  their  sleep  near  Babylon. 
Sinonis  stabs  herself,  but  not  mortally.3 

1  Dunlop,  p.  1 6,  seq. 

2  According  to  some  Russian  version's  of  the  Solomon  story,  Salomonia 
is  faithless,  takes  a  narcotic  and  simulates  death ;  she  is  buried  and  dis 
interred,  and  is  then  carried  off  by  her  paramour.     (Dunlop,  ii.,  p.  637.) 

3  Most  of  these  incidents  passed  into  Italian  novels,  and  were  used 
by  Boccaccio.     In  his  Decameron  (Day  3,  Novel  8),  he  tells  the  story  of 
a  certain  Ferondo,  who,  taking  a  drug,  was  buried  as  if  dead  and  was 
put  into  a  dungeon.     There  he  awoke  and  was  led  to  believe  he  was  in 
purgatory.     The  story  of  Girolamo  and  Salvestre  (Day  4,  Novel  8)  also 
resembles  the  story  of  Romeo,  and  the  story  of  Gentil  de'  Carisendi  and 
the  wife  of  Niccoluccio  is  that  of  a  woman  who  is  buried  as  if  dead. 
Her  lover  opens  her  vault  at  night  and  lies  by  her  side.     She  recovers 
while  he  is  there,  and,  after  residing  some  time  in  his  house,  is  restored 
to  her  husband.     (Day  10,  Novel  4.) 

A  similar  story  to  this,  and  more  nearly  approaching  Romeo,  is  contained 
in  the  thirteenth  question  discussed  before  Fiammetta  in  Filocok.  A 
certain  man  had  a  fair  wife  who  was  loved  by  a  knight,  but  who  did  not 
love  him.  The  knight  was  called  away  to  a  neighbouring  city  :  while 
there  a  messenger  came  and  told  him  the  lady  was  dead,  and  had  been 
buried  by  her  relatives.  He  resolved  to  kiss  her  dead  form.  After  dusk 
he  entered  the  city  with  one  of  his  servants  and  made  his  way  to  the 


INTRODUCTION  xix 

The  romances  of  the  Ephesiaca  and  Babylonlca  type  are 
also  Separation  romances  of  a  kind,  but  their  distinguishing 
feature  is  the  subterfuge  of  the  sleeping  potion.  On  the 
success  or  failure  of  that  everything  depends.  These 
romances  I  therefore  call  u  Potion  "  romances. 

A  second  source  of  the    Romeo  story,  therefore,  was  a 
Potion  romance,  or  Potion  romances,  which  possessed : — 
(a)  two  lovers,  probably  married,  whose  relations  are 

endangered  by 

(b}  the  advent  of  a  new  lover ; 
(c)  the  subterfuge    of  the    sleeping    potion    obtained 

from 

(<t)  a  physician  or  friend  ; 
(e)  the  burial  of  the  heroine,  as  if  dead, 
(/)  and  probably  the  forcing  open  of  the  tomb  by  the 

hero  at  night. 

The  coalition  of  the  Separation  and  Potion  romances 
was  a  simple  process.  The  composite  story  would  run  as 
follows : I 

S  =  Separation  ;  P  =  Potion. 

1.  S(*) 

2.  S(J)  =  P(<0 

3-  S  (0 

sepulchre.  Telling  his  servant  to  wait,  he  entered  the  tomb  and  em 
braced  the  lady.  He  soon  found  some  signs  of  life  in  her.  He  and  his 
servant  carried  her  to  his  house,  wrapped  in  his  mantle.  She  was  sub 
sequently  returned  to  her  husband. 

i  I  give  this  analysis  at  some  length  as  it  disposes  of  the  frequent 
contention  that  the  Romeo  story  is  historical. 


xx  INTRODUCTION 

4.  S  (h) 

5.  s  (o 

6.  S  (<?)  (together  with  the  ladder  incident,  probably 

foreign  to  these  sources). 

7.  $(/)  =  ?(!>) 

8.  P  (c) 

9.  P  (,) 

10.  p(/)  =  S(i) 

11.  S  (£)  and  S  (/) 

As  for  the  ladder  incident,  others  occur  in  Ariosto's 
Orlando  Furloso,  Book  5,  in  the  story  of  Ginevra  and  Lur- 
canio,1  and  again  in  our  Matteo  Bandello's  novel  of  Timbreo 
dl  Car  dona  and  Fenicia  Lionata*  though  here  the  ladder  is  of 
wood. 

Even  in  its  earliest  known  form  the  history  of  Romeo  and 
Juliet  was  pathetic  and  beautiful ;  dealing  as  it  did  with  the 
ruin  of  a  glorious  youth  dominated  by  the  eternal  and 
elemental  passion  of  mankind,  it  could  hardly  have  been 
otherwise :  but  the  glamour  and  the  immortality  which  it 
possesses  to-day  it  owes  to  our  and  all  men's  Shakspere, 
who  adopted  it,  and  vitalised  it  by  infusing  into  it  a  lyric 
rapture  and  youthful  ecstasy.  The  tale  was  already  well 
known  when  he  touched  it  with  his  genius,  not  only  in 


1  See  Harington's  translation,  reprinted  by  Furness,  in  his  Variorum 
Much  Ado  about  Nothing,  p.  296. 

2  See  John  Payne's  translation  for  the  Villon  Society,  reprinted  by 
Furness,  ib.t  p.  311. 


INTRODUCTION  xxi 

England,1  but  in  most  of  the  countries  of  Europe,2  and  had 
already  been  employed  for  dramatic  treatment :  but  its 
popularity  in  this  country  was  mainly  due  to  the  poem  of 
Arthur  Brooke,  which  forms  the  text  of  our  volume,  and 
from  which  Shakspere  drew  most  of  the  materials  for  his 
play. 
The  Author  of  the  Poem.— Of  Arthur  Brooke 

himself  we  know  very  little  :  our  interest  in  him  must  always 
be  principally  due  to  his  connexion  with  Shakspere.  For  us 
the  great  work  and  distinguishing  feature  of  his  life  is  his 
Tragicall  Historic  of  Romeus  and  lullet;  and  he  has  left  us 
little  else.  From  his  denunciation  of  the  friars  and  their 
ways  in  his  introduction  "  To  the  Reader,"  and  from  his 
other  known  volume  on  Scripture,  we  may  see  that  he  was 
a  zealous  Protestant.  His  words  (11.  903-4), 

"  I  grant  that  I  envy  the  bliss  they  Iiv6d  in ; 
Oh,  that  I  might  have  found  the  like,  I  wish  it  for  no  sin," — 

have  been  thought  to  signify  that  their  writer  was  un 
married  :  probably  he  was ;  but  these  words,  in  all  likeli 
hood,  owe  their  existence  to  another  cause,  not  previously 
known,  which  we  shall  discuss  later,3  and  they  may  be  taken 


1  Pfiilotimus,  published  in  1583,  mentions  the  story  ;  Thomas  Delapeend 
gives  its  argument  in  his  Pleasant  Fable  of  Hermaphroditic  and  Salmacis, 
1565  ;  Rich,  in  his  Dialogue  between  Mercury  and  a  Soldier,  1574,  tells 
us  that  the  tragedy  was  figured  on  tapestry,  so  widely  was  it  known  j 
and  Austin  Saker  mentions  it  in  his  Narbonus,  1580. 

2  Due  greatly  to  the  work, of  Da  Porto  and  Bandello. 

3  See  Appendix  II. 


xxii  INTRODUCTION 

as  poetical  sentiment  employed  merely  to  intensify  the  de 
scription  of  the  lovers'  happiness.  The  other  known  book 
by  our  author  is  one  entitled,  "  The  Agreement  of  Sondry 
places  of  Scripture,  seeming  in  shew  to  Jarre  [jar],  Seruing 
in  stead  of  Commentaryes,  not  onely  for  these,  but  others 
lyke,  Translated  out  of  French,  and  nowe  fyrst  publyshed 
by  Arthure  Broke.  Lucas  Harrison,  1563."  The  printer 
tells  us  that  the  Author  was  absent  from  London  at  the 
time  of  printing,  and  could  not,  therefore,  see  the  work 
through  the  press,  and  that  he  had  been  prevailed  upon  to 
leave  this  book  behind  him,  "  Worthy  in  deede,  for  lawfull 
and  vnspotted  doctrine,  to  beare  his  Syres  Name  :  howbeit, 
yet  rough  [on  account  of  the  author's  absence],  vnmete  to 
match  with  many  other  his  trauaylles,  satisfieng  the  hygh 
expectation  that  fame  had  blowen  of  hym."  On  fol.  308 
are  some  verses  by  "  Thomas  Broke,  the  younger,  to  the 
Reader,"  wherein  their  author,  after  saying  that  joy  cannot 
add  one  minute  to  life,  continues : 

"  Example,  lo,  in  Broke  before  thine  eye, 
Whose  praised  gifts  in  him  did  late  abound, 
By  shipwrack  forced,  alas,  too  soon  to  die, 
Helpless  of  all  intombed  lies  underground." 

Brooke  was,  therefore,  drowned  in  1563,  one  year  after 
the  publication  of  his  Romeus.  His  name  and  his  poem 
seem  to  have  speedily  become  well  known.  George  Turber- 
vile  in  his  Epitaphs,  Epigrams,  Songs  and  Sonnets,  etc.,  1570, 
has  (pp.  143  b.-144-b.)  a  valuable  poem  in  memory  of  our 
author,  which,  as  it  does  not  appear  to  have  been  given  in 


INTRODUCTION  xxiii 

full  before,  save  in  Collier's  scarce  reprint  of  Turbervile,  is 
printed  here : 

"An  Epitaph  on  the  death  of  Master  Arthur  Brooke, 
drowned  in  passing  to  Newhaven  [/.£.,  Havre]. 
"  At  point  to  end  and  finish  this  my  Book, 
Came  good  report  to  me,  and  willed  me  write 
A  doleful  verse,  in  praise  of  Arthur  Brooke, 
That  age  to  come  lament  his  fortune  might. 

Agreed,  quoth  I,  for  sure  his  virtues  were 
As  many  as  his  years  in  number  few  : 
The  Muses  him  in  learned  laps  did  bear, 
And  Pallas'  dug  this  dainty  Bab  did  chew. 

Apollo  lent  him  lute  for  solace*  sake 
To  sound  his  verse  by  touch  of  stately  string, 
And  of  the  never  fading  bay1  did  make 
A  laurel  crown,  about  his  brows  to  cling, 

In  proof  that  he  for  metre  did  excel, 
As  may  be  judged  by  Juliet  and  her  mate  : 
For  there  he  showed  his  cunning  passing  well 
When  he  the  tale  to  English  did  translate. 

But,  what  ?  as  he  to  foreign  realm  was  bound, 
With  others  moe  his  sovereign  queen  to  serve, 
Amid  the  seas  unlucky  youth  was  drowned, 
More  speedy  death  than  such  one  did  deserve. 

Ay  me,  that  time,  thou  crooked  Dolphin,2  where 
Wast  thou,  Arion's  help  and  only  stay, 
That  safely  him  from  sea  to  shore  didst  bear  ? 
When  Brooke  was  drowned  why  wast  thou  then  away  ? 

If  sound  of  harp  thine  ear  delighted  so 
And  causer  was  that  he  bestrid  thy  back, 
Then  doubtless  thou  moughtst  well  on  Brooke  bestow 

i  Original,  Bayde.  2  0.,  Delphin. 


xxiv  INTRODUCTION 

As  good  a  turn  to  save  him  from  the  wrack. 

For  sure  his  hand  Arion's  harp  excelled, 
His  pleasant  pen  did  pass  the  other's  skill, 
Whoso  his  book  with  judging  eye  beheld 
Gave  thanks  to  him  and  praised  his  learned  quill. 

Thou  cruel  Gulf,  what  meanst  thou  to  devour 
With  supping  seas  a  jewel  of  such  fame? 
Why  didst  thou  so  with  water  mar  the  flower, 
That  Pallas  thought  so  curiously  to  frame  ? 

Unhappy  was  the  haven  which  he  sought, 
Cruel  the  seas  whereon  his  ship  did  glide, 
The  winds  so  rough  that  Brooke  to  ruin  brought, 
Unskilful  he  that  undertook  to  guide. l 

But  sithens  tears  can  not  revoke  the  dead, 
Nor  cries  recall  a  drowned  man  to  land  : 
Let  this  suffice  t' extol2  the  life  he  led 
And  print  his  praise  in  house  of  Fame  to  stande, 

That  they  that  after  us  shall  be  and  live 

Deserved  praise  to  Arthur  Brooke  may  give." 

We  are  able  to  give  for  the  first  time  some  account  of  the 
circumstances  under  which  Brooke  was  drowned :  see 
Appendix  III. 

Brooke,  in  his  lines  to  the  Reader,  and  Lucas  Harrison  in 
the  Scriptural  volume,  speak  of  other  works  from  Brooke's 
pen,  but  we  know  nothing  of  them.  Turbervile's  lines 
establish  his  authorship  of  Romeus,  and  his  youth  when  he 
so  unhappily  died. 

Date  of  the  Poem. — Brooke's  statement  "The 
eldest  of  them,  lo,  I  offer  to  the  stake,  my  youthful  work  " 

i  0.,  again  glide.  2  O.t  extal. 


INTRODUCTION  xxv 

(To  the  Reader,  p.  Ixvii.),  with  its  context,  have  been  thought 
to  imply  that  his  poem  was  an  early  production,  which, 
later  in  life,  he  published,  and  for  whose  imperfections  he 
desired  to  apologise ;  but  such  a  hypothesis  will  not  bear 
investigation.  The  immediate  original  of  the  poem  was 
Boaistuau's  Histoires  Tragiques  ;  and  this  was  not  published 
until  1559:  Brooke's  poem  appeared  in  1562;  and  the 
author  could  only  have  been  referring  to  his  present  youth 
in  the  above  statement.  We  know,  too,  from  Turbervile 
that  Brooke  was  very  young  when  he  died. 

Originals  and  Sources. — Considerable  controversy 
has  raged  round  the  authenticity  of  the  Romeo  legend. 
Alessandro  Torri1  and  Filippo  Scolari  were  both  convinced 
of  the  historical  reality  of  the  story  of  the  two  unfortunate 
lovers.  There  is  little  evidence,  however,  to  support  their 
contention.  We  are  told2  that  the  sepulchral  stone  of  Romeo 
and  Juliet,  from  their  tomb,  was  bought,  at  high  price,  by 
John,  Archduke  of  Austria.  Direct  evidence,  apart  from 
this,  except  the  statement  that  the  lovers  lived  in  the  days 
of  Bartolommeo  Delia  Scala,  there  appears  to  be  none. 
Early  Italian  historians,  with  a  single  exception  to  which 
we  shall  refer  later,  make  no  mention  of  our  story ;  even 
Sarayna,3  who,  in  1 542,  published  Le  Historic  e  fattl  de* 
Veronesl  nelll  tempi  del  popolo  e  Signori  Sca/igeri,  and  even 

1  In   1831  Torri  published  in  Pisa  his  Giulletta  e  Romeo,  etc.,  nowa 
days,  as  Chiarini  tells  us,  a  rare  book,  wherein  he  reprinted  the  novels 
of  Da  Porto  and  Bandello,  the  poem  of  Clitia  and  other  old  composi 
tions  connected  with  the  Romeo  tale.     Scolari  was  his  friend. 

2  Chiarini,  p.  xii.  3  Chiarini,  p.  xii. ;  Furness,  cit.  Singer,  p.  399. 


xxvi  INTRODUCTION 

speaks  of  the  time  of  Bartolommeo  Delia  Scala  and  mentions 
other  Domestic  tragedies,  does  not  refer  to  it.  The  often- 
quoted  lines  from  the  sixth  canto  of  Dante's  Purgatorio,  1.  106  : 
"  Vieni  a  veder  Montecchi  e  Cappelletti, 

Monaldi  e  Filippeschi,  uom  sensa  cura  ! 

Color  gia  tristi,  e  costor  con  sospetti,"  i 

which  have  long  been  considered  as  referring  to  the  rival 
parties  of  the  Romeo  story,  cannot  be  held  to  be  in  any  way 
connected.  Dante's  Capulets  and  Montagues  were  both 
component  parts  of  the  same  Ghibelline  party,  and  were 
both  more  or  less  reduced  in  circumstances  through  the 
neglect  of  the  emperor  Albert.  Chiarini  points  out,  more 
over,  that  there  is  no  record  of  a  family  of  Capulets  in 
Verona,  and  adds  that,  probably,  what  was  originally  the 
name  of  a  political  faction,  became  at  a  later  date  the 
surname  of  a  family. 

There  may  or  may  not  have  been  a  Romeo  and  a  Juliet 
by  name,  and  they  may  or  may  not  have  been  unfortunate 
lovers,  but  the  facts  above-mentioned  and  our  previous 
analysis  of  their  legend,  render  it  extremely  improbable 
that  any  part  of  their  history,  as  we  have  it,  can  be  true, 
except,  perhaps,  if  they  lived  at  all,  their  burial  together. 

The  earliest  tale  we  know  containing  the  elements  of  the 
Veronese  legend  is  Masuccio  Salernitano's  romance  of 

i  Translated  by  Gary  : — 

"  Come  see  the  Capulets  and  Montagues, 
The  Filippeschi  and  Monaldi,  man, 

Who  car'st  for  nought !     Those  sunk  in  grief,  and  these 
With  dire  suspicion  rack'd." 


INTRODUCTION  xxvii 

Mariotto  Mignanelli  of  Sienna  and  Giannozza  Saracini, 
the  thirty-third  novel  of  his  Cinquante  Novelfe,  published  in 
Naples  in  I476.1  In  it  Mariotto  loved  Giannozza,  and 
could  not  marry  her  publicly ;  an  Augustine  monk  was, 
therefore,  bribed  to  wed  them  in  secret.  Mariotto  subse 
quently  struck  a  fellow-citizen  in  fight,  so  that  the  man 
died,  and  he  was  condemned  by  the  Podesta  to  banishment. 
After  asking  his  brother,  Gargano,  to  keep  him  informed  of 
affairs  in  Sienna,  he  went  to  his  uncle  Nicolo  Mignanelli, 
a  merchant  in  Alexandria.  Giannozza  was,  meanwhile, 
being  urged  by  her  angry  father  to  wed,  and  in  order 
to  evade  this,  conceived  the  idea  of  pretending  death. 
She  bribed  the  friar  to  compound  her  a  sleeping  potion 
which  should  cause  her  to  sleep  for  three  days :  this  she 
drank,  was  taken  for  dead,  and  was  buried  in  the  church 
of  St.  Augustine.  She  had  previously  written  of  her 
intentions  to  Mariotto,  but  her  messenger  and  his  ship  were 
seized  by  pirates  and  her  letter  was  lost.  Marietta's 
brother  informed  him  by  letter  of  her  supposed  death,  and 
the  unhappy  lover  returned  to  Sienna,  determined  to  die 
at  his  wife's  tomb.  The  friar  had  already  removed  her 
body,  but  Mariotto  not  knowing  this,  attempted  to  force 
open  the  vault,  was  seized  in  so  doing,  was  recognised, 
racked  and  decapitated.  Giannozza,  disguised  as  a  man, 
had  meanwhile  gone  to  Alexandria  and  heard  of  her 

i  See  Daniel,  Romeus  and  Juliet,  etc.,  New  Shakspere  Society,  1875, 
p.  iv. ;  Chiarini,  p.  xxi. ;  Furness's  Variorum  Romeo  and  Juliet  (from 
Simrock),  p.  399. 


xxviii  INTRODUCTION 

husband's  departure ;  she  returned  to  Sienna,  to  find  he 
had  been  beheaded  three  days  before.  She  retired  to  a 
nunnery  and  died  broken-hearted.1  Masuccio  calls  on 
God  to  witness  that  all  his  tales  happened  in  his  own 
times. 

Whether  Luigi  Da  Porto's  Historia  novellamente  ritrovata 
di  due  nobill  amanti*  etc.  (Venice  c.  1530)  was  founded  on 
Masuccio  Salernitano's  tale  or  not  is  uncertain  :  Da  Porto's 
story  may  have  been  (and  probably  was)  an  independent 
record  of  the  same  legend.  It  contains  the  first  mention  of 
Romeo  and  Juliet ;  and  various  editions  of  it  were  published 
during  the  sixteenth  century.  Da  Porto  says  that  the 
lovers  lived  in  the  days  of  Bartolommeo  Delia  Scala,  that 
Romeo  was  already  in  love  and  followed  his  cruel  mistress  to 
the  feast  of  Antonio  Cappelletti,  disguised  as  a  nymph ; 
here  he  beheld  Juliet,  and  for  her  at  once  forgot  his  old 
love.  The  lovers  sat  together  after  a  dance,  Marcuccio 
Guercio  (Mercutio)  with  them,  and  spoke 3 :  they  met  at  night 
at  Juliet's  window  and  their  love  increased.  They  resolved 

1  That  this  was  probably  but  one  recorded  form  of  a  popular  legend 
which  became   localised  in  different  places,  and  of  which  there  were 
slightly  different  versions,  is  supported  by  the  difference  between  the 
Argument  and   the   conclusion  of  the  tale.     In  the  novel    Giannozza 
retires  to  a  nunnery  and  dies  :  in  the  Argument  she  dies  of  grief  on  the 
body  of  her  lover  :    "  La  donna  no'l  trova  in  Allessandria,  ritorna  a 
Siena,  e  trova  1'amante  decollate,  e  ella  sopra  il  suo  corpo  per  dolore  si 
muore."     Note  that  in  Romeo  Laurence  offers  to  find  Juliet  a  nunnery, 
but  that  she  dies  on  her  lover's  body. 

2  Chiarini's  reprint,  p.  I  ;  Daniel's  epitome,  p.  5. 

3  Chiarini's  reprint,  p.  7. 


INTRODUCTION  xxix 

on  secret  marriage,  and  Friar  Lorenzo  was  induced  to  wed 
them.  Shortly  after  this  occurred  a  street-fight  in  which 
Romeo,  after  hesitation,  attacked  Tebaldo  Cappelletti 
(Tybalt)  in  anger,  and  slew  him  ;  Romeo  was  then  banished 
for  ever  from  Verona,  and  took  leave  of  Juliet  at  the 
friar's  cell,1  leaving  Lorenzo  and  Juliet's  servant  (Pietro; 
Shakspere's  Peter)  to  inform  him  of  all  news,  and  hoping  to 
get  his  banishment  repealed.  Juliet  broke  down  in  grief, 
and  her  parents  were  led  to  believe  that  marriage  alone 
could  help  their  daughter,  who  was  then  about  eighteen 
years  old.2  Thereupon  they  commenced  arrangements  with 
a  count  of  Lodrone  (later,  Paris)  to  that  end.  This  was 
told  to  Juliet  by  her  mother,  Giovanna,3  but  the  daughter 
expressed  disapproval  of  the  match  to  both  her  parents,  and 
said  she  would  rather  marry  a  Montague  or  die,  than  wed  the 
chosen  Paris;  thus  arousing  her  father's  anger.  She  sent 
this  intelligence  through  Pietro  to  Romeo,  who  replied,  desir 
ing  her  still  to  maintain  their  mutual  secret.  The  threats  of 
Antonio  drove  her  to  consult  Friar  Lorenzo,  who  for  the 
sake  of  Romeo's  friendship,  and  to  prevent  open  scandal, 
gave  her  a  powder  (una  polvere)  which  would  cause  her  to 
lie  as  if  dead  for  forty-eight  hours.4  She  would  then  be 
buried  in  the  tomb  of  the  Cappelletti,  and  he  could  carry 
her  to  his  cell  where  she  might  remain  till  she  could  escape, 
disguised  as  a  monk,  to  Mantua.  Meanwhile  he  would 


i  Chiarini's  reprint,  p.  15.  ~  /£.,  p.  17. 

3  Ib.y  p.  1 8.  4  /£.,  p.  23. 


xxx  INTRODUCTION 

send  a  letter  which  she  was  to  write  to  Romeo,  by  a  brother, 
telling  him  of  their  doings.  Juliet  took  the  powder, 
returned  home  and  professed  submission  to  her  father.  At 
night  she  asked  one  of  her  servants  for  a  cup  of  cold  water, 
to  refresh  her,  and  mixing  the  potion,  drank  it,  declaring 
in  the  presence  of  the  servant  and  her  aunt :  Mio  padre 
per  certo  contra  mio  volere  non  mi  dara  marito,  s'io 
potro.1  The  friar's  messenger  was,  meanwhile,  ineffectually 
trying  to  reach  Romeo.  In  the  morning  Juliet  was  found 
on  her  bed,  apparently  dead ;  and  afterwards,  with  great 
mourning,  was  laid  in  the  family  vault.  Pietro,  not  being 
able  to  meet  Lorenzo,  who  had  left  the  city  for  a  time, 
departed  to  Mantua  and  informed  Romeo  that  Juliet  was 
dead.  Romeo  paled  and  became  like  a  dead  man,  and 
drew  his  sword  to  kill  himself,2  but  was  restrained  by 
Pietro,  whom  he  finally  dismissed,  giving  him  a  brown 
garment  that  he  had.  He  resolved  to  return  to  Verona, 
and  departed  disguised  as  a  peasant  (contadino),  taking 
with  him  a  small  bottle  of  poison  (una  guastadetta  d'acqua 
di  serpe)  that  he  had  in  a  chest.  He  arrived  unnoticed  in 
Verona  at  night,  opened  the  vault,  and  with  the  aid  of  his 
lantern  beheld  the  body  of  Juliet,  whom  he  addressed  in 
sorrow ;  he  then  swallowed  his  poison,  and  embracing  his 
love,  awaited  death.3  The  strength  of  the  powder  was 
now  decreasing,  and  Juliet  soon  awoke  and  speedily  dis 
covered  in  whose  arms  she  lay,  having  at  first  thought  that 

i  Chiarini's  reprint,  p.  25.  2  Ib,y  p.  29. 

3  lb.,  p.  32. 


INTRODUCTION  xxxi 

Lorenzo  had  wronged  her.  The  lovers  mingled  their 
lamentations  and  expressions  of  affection.  Lorenzo  at 
this  point,  knowing  the  virtue  of  the  powder  would  fail 
about  then,  arrived  with  his  faithful  companion,  and  saw 
the  two  lovers.  Romeo  died  and  Juliet  called  for  a  knife 
to  kill  herself.  The  friar  promised  to  find  her  a  place 
in  some  holy  convent ; x  Juliet,  however,  held  her  breath 
for  a  good  time,  and  finally,  with  a  great  cry,  expired  on 
her  lover's  body.  The  watch  arrived  and  seeing  the  light 
and  hearing  the  noise,  interrogated  Lorenzo  ;  the  friar 
extinguished  the  light,  closed  the  tomb  and  refused  to 
answer  their  questions.  The  Cappelletti  were  apprised, 
and  the  prince  was  constrained  to  hold  an  enquiry. 
Lorenzo  equivocated,  but  the  tomb  was  opened  by  his 
fellow  monks,  and  the  truth  revealed.  The  rival  families 
were  then  reconciled,  and  the  lovers  were  buried  together 
with  great  ceremony.2  In  his  Forewords  Da  Porto  tells  us 
that  he  learnt  the  tale  in  his  soldier  days  from  a  Veronese 
archer  named  Pellegrino,  like  all  his  townsmen,  a  fine 
talker,  and  an  expert  soldier.  Da  Porto's  narrative  very 
speedily  became  widely  known,  and  apparently  travelled  to 
France.  Adrian  Sevin's  History  of  Burglipha  and  Halquad- 
rich  (1541-2)  appears  to  be  an  echo  or  imitation  of  it.  It 
could  hardly  have  been  independent.  It  possesses  little 
interest  for  Shakspere  students.3 


i  Chiarini's  reprint,  p.  35.  2  /£.,  p.  40. 

3  For  an  epitome,  see  Daniel,  p.  viii. 


xxxii  INTRODUCTION 

The  next  Italian  version  of  Romeo  after  Da  Porto  was  a 
poem  entitled,  VInfellce  Amore  del  due  Fedelissimi  Amantl 
Giu!iatRomeo,written  by Clitia  (or  Clizia)  to  her  Ardeo  (i  5  53), 
and  published  by  Giolito  in  Venice.  The  "  authoress  "  and 
her  Ardeo  cannot  now  be  properly  identified,  but  conjecture 
has  it  that  the  poem  was  written  by  Gherardo  Bolderi.1  Clitia 
states  at  the  start  that  150  years  had  passed  since  the 
Capulets  and  the  Montagues,  of  old  at  feud,  had  forgotten 
somewhat  their  enmity  and  the  Romeo  story  began.  If 
then  the  date  which  Da  Porto  and  Bandello  assign  to 
the  tragedy  be  accepted  (1301-4),  the  date  of  Clitia's 
composition  must  be  about  1453.  This  wrould  make 
Clitia  the  earliest  Romeo  record ;  but  considerations  of 
style  do  not  point  to  so  early  a  date ;  considerations  of 
text  lead  to  the  belief  that  Clitia  followed  Da  Porto ;  and 
it  is  highly  improbable  that  the  MS.  could  have  lain  100 
years  before  publication.  Filippo  Scolari2  supposes  that 
Clitia  wrote  little  previous  to  publication.  Although  Clitia's 
version  follows  Da  Porto,  it  differs  in  several  particulars : — 
(i)  Lady  Capulet  here  first  supposes  Tybalt's  death  to  be 
the  cause  of  Juliet's  sorrow  after  Romeo's  banishment.  (2) 
Romeo  does  not  attempt  his  life  on  hearing  of  Juliet's  sup 
posed  death.  (3)  He  gives  Pietro  a  gold  chain  (instead  of 
a  garment,  as  before)  on  dismissing  him,  and  sends  him  to 
tell  the  Friar  of  his  coming.  (4)  Pietro  does  not  do  this, 

1  Chiarini,  p.  xviii. 

2  Su  la  pietosa  morte  di  G.  Cappelletti  e  R,  Montecchi.    Lettere  Critiche 
de  Filippo  Scolariy  Livorno,  1831,  p.  37. 


INTRODUCTION  xxxiii 

and  is  no  more  heard  of.  (5)  Romeo  dies  in  Juliet's  arms 
before  the  Friar  arrives,  who  (6)  comes  to  the  tomb  alone. 
(7)  The  poem  then  ends  abruptly  with  Juliet's  death.1 

After  Clitia  came  Matteo  Bandello  with  his  Novello  of 
Glulletta  e  Romeo  published  in  Lucca  in  1554  in  the  second 
of  his  three  volumes.  Dedicated  to  Girolamo  Fracastro, 
Bandello,  in  the  main,  follows  Da  Porto,  whose  narrative  he 
enlarges  and  ornaments,2  but  he  appears  also  to  have  bor 
rowed  from  Clitia.  In  Bandello  the  story  approaches  yet 
more  to  its  Shaksperian  form.  Romeo's  first  love-affair  is 
here  dwelt  upon,  and  he  goes  to  the  Capulet  feast,  not  to 
pursue  his  cruel  lady,  but  on  the  advice  of  a  friend  to  behold 
other  beauties.3  He  goes  masked,  but  not  as  a  nymph  (as 
in  Da  Porto).  Here,  too,  we  first  meet  the  Nurse,  from 
whom  Juliet  learns  Romeo's  identity .4  The  Nurse  carries 
messages  between  the  lovers,  and  the  parting  takes  place 
at  the  heroine's  house.  The  county  is  now  called  Paris, 
conte  di  Lodrone ;  5  the  Friar  is  named  Lorenzo  da 
Reggio  ; 6  and  Pietro  (in  Da  Porto,  Juliet's  servant)  becomes 
Romeo's  man.  Juliet  drinks  the  potion  in  secret,?  and  is 
thought  to  have  died  of  grief.8  Lorenzo's  messenger  is  a 
friar  named  Anselmo,  who,  arriving  at  Mantua,  goes  to  the 

1  Daniel,  p.  ix  :  this  poem  was  printed  by  Torri.     A  description  of 
Clitia's  poem   will   be   found   in    The  Shakspere  Society's  Papers^    1849, 
Vol.  iv.,  Art.  n. 

2  Nelle  sue   [Bandello' s]  mani  Tarido  racconto  del  Da  Porfo,  cost  spesso 
monofono  e  scolorito  si  allarga  e  si  awuiva. — Chiarini,  p.  xxv. 

3  Chiarini's  reprint,  p.  52.  4  /£.,  p.  59.  5  /£.,  p.  76. 
6  /£.,  p.  63.                                          7  /£.,  p.  89.  8  /£.,  p.  9I. 


xxxiv  INTRODUCTION 

Franciscan  monastery  there,  to  get  a  companion,  and  is  there 
detained  in  consequence  of  death  through  plague.1  Pietro 
here  first  acquaints  his  master  with  news  of  Juliet's  supposed 
death,  having  seen  her  carried  to  the  sepulchre,2  and  is  sent 
back  to  Verona  to  provide  instruments  for  opening  the 
tomb. 3  Romeo  writes  to  his  father  the  whole  story  in  a 
letter,  settles  his  affairs,  and  taking  the  poison  with  him,4  he 
sets  out  on  horse,  disguised  as  a  German,5  for  Verona,  where 
he  meets  Pietro.  They  go  to  the  tomb  at  night;  Romeo  gives 
his  man  his  letter,  and  tells  him  he  obtained  the  poison  from 
a  certain  Spolentino  in  Mantua,6  and  directs  him  to  close 
the  sepulchre.  He  then  takes  the  poison,  and  embracing 
Juliet,  awaits  death.  Juliet  then  awakes,  and  seeing  a  figure 
by  her  in  a  German  costume  is  startled,  and  thinks  Lorenzo 
has  betrayed  her.  7  She  soon  discovers  it  is  her  Romeo. 
The  lovers  mutually  lament  and  express  their  love.  Romeo 
asks  forgiveness  of  the  dead  Tebaldo. 8  Lorenzo,  with  an 
other  friar,  now  comes  to  the  sepulchre,  and  meeting  Pietro, 
asks  concerning  Romeo,  while  Romeo  himself  is  dying. 
Lorenzo  beholds  the  lovers,  and  offers  to  find  Juliet  a 
nunnery,  as  before ;  but  she  dies  on  the  body  of  her  lover. 
The  two  friars  and  Pietro  think  she  has  fainted  and  try  to 
revive  her,  when  the  watch  arrive 9  and  arrest  them.  Barto- 

i  Chiarini's  reprint,  p.  93.  2  /£.,  p.  95.  3  /£.,  p.  98. 

4"un'  ampoletta  plena  d'acqa  velenosissima,"  /£.,  p.  99,  but  after 
wards  described  as  in  Da  Porto  :  "  1'acqua,  che  del  serpe  1'uom  appella," 
p.  in  ;  see  also  p.  101. 

5  Ib.y  p.  100.  6  Ib.,  p.  101.  7  /£.,  p.  103. 

8  Ib.y  p.  105.  9lb.,  p.  no. 


INTRODUCTION  xxxv 

lommeo  examines  them  on  the  affair,  and  they  are  pardoned. 
The  Capulets  and  Montagues  make  peace,  and  the  lovers  are 
buried  together  in  great  pomp.  The  Novello  concludes 
with  the  lovers'  epitaph.1 

Bandello's  tale  speedily  acquired  a  greater  popularity  than 
Da  Porto's :  it  was  translated  by  Boaistuau  (or  Boisteau)  in 
his  Histotres  Tragtqves,  Extraictes  des  Qeuvres  Italiennes  de 
Bandel,  &  mises  en  nostre  langue  Franfotse,  par  Pierre  Boaistuau 
surnomme  Launay,  natif  de  Bretaigne,  Paris,  1559.  Here  it 
forms  the  Hlstolre  Troisiesme,  De  deux  amans,  dont  VVH  mourut 
de  veniny  I'autre  de  trlstesse  (p.  39).  Boaistuau  in  his  Adver- 
tissement  au  Lecteur  begs  the  reader  not  to  find  it  ill  that  he 
has  not  closely  followed  Bandello's  style,  which  he  considers 
rude  and  meagre,  and  says  that  he  has  recast  all  afresh. 
One  is  not  able  to  concur  with  Boaistuau  in  his  opinion  as 
to  Bandello,  but  the  important  point  is  that  in  his  recasting 
he  made  various  changes,  which  contribute  in  the  develop 
ment  towards  Shakspere.  The  scene  with  the  Apothecary 
is  expanded  from  Bandello's  hint.2  Romeo's  man  and 
Laurens  arrive  after  Romeo's  demise,  while  Juliet  still 
sleeps,  a  circumstance  which  may  be  due  to  influence  of 
Clitia,  or  to  another  version  of  the  legend.  Juliet 
refuses  to  leave  the  tomb.  When  the  servant  and  friar 
withdraw  on  hearing  a  noise,  Juliet  stabs  herself  with 
Romeo's  dagger.  Laurens  and  his  companion  are  arrested 


1  Ib.,  p.  in.     See  Daniel's  epitome,  which  I  used  for  basis,  p.  x. 

2  Boaistuau,  edition  1559,  p.  76. 


xxxvi  INTRODUCTION 

by  the  watch  and  imprisoned.  The  bodies  are  set  out  to 
view  on  a  stage,  and  the  Prince  holds  an  enquiry.  Laurens 
and  the  servant  are  pardoned ;  the  Nurse  is  banished ;  the 
apothecary  is  racked  and  hanged ;  and  the  lovers  are  buried 
in  a  sumptuous  tomb. 

The  story  was  now  to  have  literary  record  in  England,  for 
from  Boaistuau's  Histolre  Arthur  Brooke  made  his  poem, 
published  in  1562,  and  Painter  subsequently  made  his  trans 
lation,  published  in  his  Palace  a/Pleasure,  Vol.  II.,  in  1567. 
Brooke's  use  of  Boaistuau  will  be  dealt  with  in  the  criticism 
of  his  book.  A  criticism  of  Painter  follows. 

This  constitutes  the  direct  line  towards  Shakspere ;  we 
have  now  to  go  back  somewhat,  and  consider  the  more  im 
portant  literature,  apart  from  the  above  versions,  which  had 
sprung  from  the  Romeo  legend. 

The  single  exception  among  Italian  historians  who  gives 
credence  and  record  to  the  Romeo  story  is  Girolamo  delle 
Corte,  who  relates  the  tragedy  in  his  Storia  dl  Verona  as 
actually  happening  in  1303;  but  as  his  account  appeared 
for  the  first  time  in  1594,  when  Da  Porto,  Bandello,  Boais 
tuau,  Brooke,  Painter,  and  Shakspere  had  already  written 
their  works,  and  when  the  legend  had  spread  over  Italy,  it 
has  no  value  whatever  as  history.  Girolamo  delle  Corte 
appears  to  have  merely  accepted  the  popular  tradition  as 
circumstantial,  and  to  have  adopted  it  to  enliven  his  work. 

Concerning  the  blind  poet  Luigi  Groto's  La  Hadrlana 
(1578),  a  great  deal  has  been  written.  In  1799,  Joseph 
Cooper  Walker  published  his  Historical  Memoir  on  Italian 


INTRODUCTION  xxxvii 

Tragedy,  in  which  he  claimed  that  Shakspere  was  cognisant 
of  Groto's  play.  W.  W.  Lloyd,1  in  Singer's  Shakspere,  added 
considerably  to  Walker's  evidence,  and,  in  our  opinion,  came 
one  step  nearer  the  truth,  in  inferring  that  Shakspere  used 
some  English  adaptation  of  Groto.  From  a  cursory  examina 
tion,  La  Hadriana  would  appear  to  be  simply  a  transference 
of  the  Romeo  story  to  the  "  glorious  city  of  Adria,"  of  more 
ancient  times,  with  frequent  borrowings  from  Da  Porto,  on 
whose  novel  the  plot  appears  to  be  based.  Cino  Chiarini, 
however,  refers  it  to  Bandello ; 2  and  the  truth  is  that  both 
novels  seem  to  have  contributed  towards  its  construction. 
The  consensus  of  critical  opinion  is  that  there  is  no 
connexion  between  Luigi  Groto  and  Shakspere,  and  in 
consideration  of  this  point  the  following  analysis  is  made. 

La  Hadriana  possesses  in  common  with  Da  Porto  and  with 
no  other  Italian  work:  (i)  The  ironical  statement  that  the 
heroine  might  rather  wed  their  family  enemy  (a  Montague 
or  Latino)  than  him  who  has  been  chosen  by  her  parents 
(Paris  or  the  Sabine  prince). 3  (2)  The  heroine's  asking  for 
water  in  the  night  to  quench  her  thirst,  but  really  to  mix 


1  Furness,  cit.  Lloyd,  p.  402,  seq.     An  epitome  of  La  Hadriana  and 
an  examination  of  Walker's  and   Lloyd's  arguments  is  given  in  Daniel, 
pp.  xxii.-xxxii.,  and  of  this  epitome  I  make  use  in  my  examination. 
A  thorough  comparison  between  Groto's  play  and  Shakspere's  will  be 
found  in  Giuseppe  Chiarini's  Studi  S/iakspeariani,  Livorno,  1896,  pp.  243- 
269. 

2  C.  Chiarini,  p.  xxvi. 

3  Daniel's  epitome,  p.  xxiv.,  and  see  p.  xxxi ;  our  epitome  of  Da  Porto, 
above,  p.  xxix. 


xxxviii  INTRODUCTION 

her  potion,1  (3)  her  drinking  it  in  the  presence  of  the 
servant,2  and  (4)  her  statement  before  the  servant  that  her 
father  (Capulet  or  Mezentio)  should  not  wed  her  that 
day.3  (5)  The  gift  by  the  hero  of  his  cloak  to  the  mes 
senger  who  brought  the  news  of  the  heroine's  supposed 
death. 

In  common  with  Bandello,  La  Hadriana  possesses :  (i)  The 
character  of  the  Nurse  as  confidante  and  go-between.4  (2) 
The  parting  of  the  lovers  at  the  heroine's  house,  where  the 
hero  arrives  by  stealth.5 

The  conclusion  in  La  Hadriana,\iovfe.vzr,  is  different  from 
that  in  both  Da  Porto  and  Bandello ;  in  Groto's  tragedy, 
the  heroine  stabs  herself,  and  the  hero  dies  before  the  Mago 
arrives.  This  is  precisely  the  ending  in  Boaistuau.6 

Apart  from  these  considerations,  moreover,  there  are  a 
number  of  particulars  in  which  Groto's  Hadriana  agrees 
only  with  Shakspere's  Romeo.  These  are  : 

(i)  The  hero's  talk  of  his  readiness  to  die  in  the  parting 
scene  with  the  heroine  (in  Groto,  Latino  offers  his  sword  to 


1  Daniel,  p.  xxv. ;  our  epitome,  p.  xxx. 

2  /£.,  p.  xxv. ;   our  epitome,  p.  xxx.     It  should  be  noted,  however, 
that  in  Groto  this  servant  is  the  Nurse,  who  corresponds  to  the  Nurse 
in  Bandello,  and  who,  of  course,  saw  her  mistress  to  bed. 

3  Ib.f  p.  xxvi.  5  our  epitome,  p.  xxx. 

4  /£.,  p.  xxii.,  etc. ;  our  epitome,  p.  xxxiii. 

5  Ib.y  p.  xxiii.  5  our  epitome,  p.  xxxiii. 

6  /£,  p.  xxvi. 5    above,  p.  xxxv.     In  Clitia,  too,  Romeo   dies  before 
Friar  Tricastro  (Laurence)   arrives,  but  here,   as   in    Da    Porto,  etc., 
Giulia  dies  by  holding  her  breath. 


INTRODUCTION  xxxix 

Hadriana  and  puts  his  life  in  her  hands).1  (2)  The  entry  of 
the  Nurse  at  the  conclusion  of  the  parting  scene.2  (3)  Her 
interference  in  the  arranging  of  the  second  wedding  (with 
Paris  or  the  Sabine  prince).3  (4)  The  ironical  words,  in 
one  case  by  the  mother  to  the  daughter  and  in  the  other  by 
the  daughter  to  the  mother,  that  the  daughter  might  rather 
wed  the  enemy  who  has  slain  her  kinsman  (Romeo  or  Latino) 
than  her  father's  choice.4  (5)  The  consolation  of  the  be 
reaved  fathers  (Capulet  and  Mezentino) — who,  in  these  two 
plays  alone,  give  vent  to  their  sorrow, — by  a  councillor  (in 
Romeo  by  Laurence),  in  both  cases  the  idea  being  to  console 
the  father  with  philosophical  reflections.5  (6)  The  return  of 
the  Friar's  and  the  Mago's  letters  by  their  messengers.6 
(7)  The  mention  of  both  poisoning  and  stabbing  at  the 
heroine's  death, — in  Groto's  play,  Hadriana  tells  the  Mago 
she  has  poisoned  herself,  and  afterwards  stabs  herself;  in 
Shakspere  Juliet  chides  dead  Romeo  for  leaving  none  of 
the  poison,  and  also  afterwards  stabs  herself.? 

1  Daniel,  p.  xxiii.;  Shakspere,  III.,  v.,  17. 

2  Ib.t  p.  xxiii. ;  Shakspere,  III.,  v.,  37. 

3  /£.,  p.  xxiv. ;  Shakspere,  III.,  v.,  169  and  214-227. 

4  Mentioned  before  in  reference  to  Da  Porto,  but  as  there  can  be  no 
direct  connexion  between  Da  Porto  and  Shakspere  this  case  is  cited  ; 
Daniel,  pp.  xxiv.-xxxi. ;  Shakspere,  III.,  v.,  122.     There   may  be  con 
nexion  between  the  names  Latino  and  Romeo. 

Daniel,  p.  xxv. ;  Shakspere,  IV.,  v.,  65-83. 

6  /£.,  p.  xxxi. ;  Shakspere,  V.,  ii. 

7  /£.,  p.    xxvi. ;    Shakspere,  V.,  iii.,    161.      Note    that    Juliet    calls 
for  a  knife  in  Da  Porto  also,  but  does  not  die  of  poison.     See  p.  xxxi. 
above. 


xl  INTRODUCTION 

Besides  these  cases  there  are  verbal  similarities  and  parallel 
isms  of  idea.  When  the  lovers  are  parting  in  La  Hadriana, 
Latino  exclaims : 

"  S'io  non  erro,  e  presso  il  far  del  giorno. 

Udite  il  rossignuol,  che  con  noi  desto, 

Con  noi  geme  fra  i  spini,  e  la  nigiada 

Col  pianto  nostro  bagna  1'herbe.     Ahi  lasso, 

Rivolgete  la  faccia  a  1'Oriente. 

Ecco  incomincia  a  spuntar  1'alba  fuori, 

Portando  un'  altro  sol  sopra  la  terra, 

Che  pero  dal  mio  Sol  restera  vinto." 
"  If  I  err  not,  the  lamp  of  day  is  nigh. 

List  to  the  nightingale,  that  wakes  with  us, 

With  us  laments  mid  thorns  j  and  now  the  dew, 

Like  our  tears,  pearls  the  grass.     Ah  me,  alas, 

Turn  toward  the  east  thy  face. 

There  now  begins  the  morning  to  break  forth, 

Bringing  another  sun  above  the  earth 

That  yet  by  my  sun  shall  rest  vanquished."  i 

Compare  this  with  the  parting  of  Romeo  and  Juliet, 
III.,  v.  Similar  resemblance  was  detected  by  V/alker  in 
the  Mago's  and  the  Friar's  words  to  the  heroine  about  the 
sleeping-potion,  and  in  their  speeches  concerning  their 
plans  for  the  future.2  W.  W.  Lloyd  pointed  out  the 
resemblance  between  Latino's  and  Romeo's  antithetical 
definition  of  love.3  Daniel  showed  the  resemblance  between 
Latino  and  Romeo,  in  that  they  both  address  the  sepulchre 
on  going  there  to  die,  and  queried  a  possible  connexion 

i  Daniel,  p.  xxvii.  2  /^  p.  xxviii. 

3  Ib.  ,•  Furness,  cit.  Lloyd,  p.  402. 


INTRODUCTION  xli 

between  the  two  Nurses'  references  to  the  childhood  of  the 
heroines.1  The  majority  of  these  incidents  in  Shakspere 
were  certainly  not  taken  from  Brooke. 

Whatever  the  reason  of  this  curious  similarity  may  be, 
there  can  be  no  doubt  that  it  exists.  Individual  instances 
may  not  be  convincing,  but  taken  as  a  whole,  these  cases  of 
very  apparent  relationship  form  an  argument  which  may  not 
be  brushed  aside  without  great  consideration. 

Now,  viewing  the  evidence  before  us,  it  becomes  apparent 
that  Groto  either  made  use  of  Da  Porto,  Bandello,  and 
Boaistuau,  all  three,  or  borrowed  from  some  third  Italian 
source  a  novel  or  play,  now  unknown,  which  led  Boaistuau 
to  alter  his  ending,  and  which  was  based  on,  or  similar  to, 
Da  Porto  and  Bandello.  Similar  as  Groto's  tragedy  is  in 
general  outline  to  the  Romeo  story,  an  examination  reveals 
the  absence  of  many  significant  incidents  and  shows  a  differ 
ence  of  treatment,  and  the  play  seems  to  be  too  distantly 
removed  from  the  story  of  the  Italian  novels  to  warrant  the 
assumption  of  immediate  connexion  with  them ;  and  it  is 
highly  improbable,  too,  that  Groto  made  use  of  Boaistuau. 
If  then,  as  seems  likely,  there  was  a  third  Italian  version  of 
the  Romeo  story,  other  than  Clitia,  it  must  have  been  some 
adaptation  or  translation  of  this,  which,  apart  from  Brooke, 
influenced  Shakspere.2  In  this  way,  and  in  this  way  only, 

1  Daniel,  pp.  xxx.-xxxi. 

2  There  appears  to  be  no  evidence  that  Groto's  tragedy  was  known 
in  England  at  the  time  of  the  composition  of  Romeo,  and  even  though  it 
were,  it  is  hard  to  believe  that  it  could  have  been  associated  with  that 

d 


xlii  INTRODUCTION 

can  we  explain  the  similarities  between  La  Hadriana  and 
Romeo,  and  the  fact  that  Shakspere's  tragedy  reverted  in  two 
particulars  to  the  plot  as  found  in  Da  Porto, — in  the 
heroine's  ironical  words  to  her  mother  that  she  would  rather 
wed  a  Montague  than  Paris,  and  in  Peter's  position  as 
servant  to  Juliet  (in  Bandello,  etc.,  he  became  Romeo's 
man). 

From  this  we  pass  to  the  Dutch  play  of  Romeo  en  Juliette, 
written  in  Alexandrine  couplets  by  Jacob  Struijs  in  1630, 
but  not  published  till  I634.1  The  text  in  Struijs  is  based  to 
a  large  extent  on  the  prose  of  Boaistuau,  but  at  many 
points  it  departs  from  that  version  and  coincides  with 
Shakspere  in  incidents  which  the  English  dramatist  did  not 
obtain  from  Brooke. 

Struijs  agrees  with  Boaistuau  in :  (a)  the  names  of  the 
characters ;  (£)  large  portions  of  the  dialogue  ;  (c)  Juliette's 
comments  on  Thibout's  death  and  Romeo's  deed ; 
(ct)  Capellet's  words  to  Juliette  on  her  refusal  to  accept 
Paris ;  (e)  in  the  incident  of  the  fray  which  proved  fatal 
to  Thibout ;  and  in  many  other  points.2 

Struijs  agrees  exclusively  with  Brooke  in  the  incident  in 
which  Juliet  deceives  the  Nurse.  In  the  Dutch  play  and 

play.  Ben  Jonson  mentioned  La  Hadriana  in  his  Volpone,  produced  in 
1605,  and  although  Florio  mentioned  it  in  his  list  of  Authors  and  Books, 
etc.,  1611,  he  omitted  it  from  his  earlier  list  in  1598.  (See  Daniel, 
p.  xxxi.) 

1  See  Romeo  and  Juliette,  by  Harold  de  Wulf  Fuller,  reprinted  from 
Modern  Philology,  July,  1906. 

2  Fuller,  pp.  2,  3. 


INTRODUCTION  xliii 

Brooke  it  comes  after  Juliet's  visit  to  Laurence  (11.  2288- 
2316);  in  Shakspere  it  occurs  immediately  after  the 
expression  of  Capulet's  wrath  (III.  v.  213-242);  in 
Boaistuau  and  Painter  there  is  no  such  conversation.1 

Struijs  agrees  exclusively  with  Shakspere  or  resembles 
him  in  the  following  points : 

(a)  There  is  great  similarity  in  the  two  plays  in  Romeo's 
description  of  Juliet  at  the  feast,2  (£)  in  the  incident  of  the 
first  night  meeting  in  the  moonlight,3  (c)  in  the  opening  of 
the  scene  where  Laurence  is  discovered  in  front  of  his  cell, 
before  the  entry  of  Romeo,4  and  (d)  in  Tybalt's  desire  to 
attack  Romeo  at  the  feast. 5  (e)  They  agree  in  the  main 
features  of  the  fray  in  which  Mercutio  (in  Struijs  called 
Phebidas)  and  Tybalt  were  killed,6  (and  although  the  general 
outline  is  the  same  there  is  great  difference  in  language  and 
treatment).  (f)  They  agree  in  the  fact  that  Romeo 
lamented  over  his  misfortunes  in  the  cell  of  Laurence,?  and 
in  the  entry  of  the  Nurse  at  that  time,  (g)  They 
resemble  each  other  in  the  parting  of  the  lovers.8 

Here,  again,  we  are  presented  with  the  same  alternatives 
as  in  the  case  of  Luigi  Groto  and  the  Italian  novelists, 

1  Fuller,  pp.  4-6  ;  this  is  not  the  only  point  in  which  Brooke  and 
Struijs  agree,  as  against  Boaistuau,  as  we  show  later,  pp.  xlv.,liii.-iv.,lvii. 

2  /£.,  p.  7.  3  /£.,  p.  8.  4  /£.,  p.  9. 

5  /£.,   p.    10,  but  in   Struijs,  Thibout   recounts  this  afterwards,  and 
says  he  refrained  for  fear  of  dishonouring  the  company. 

6  Ib.t  p.  12. 

7  Ib.y  pp.  13-14;  we  return  to  this  later,  as  it  occurs  also  in  Brooke. 

8  /£.,  pp.  15-16. 


xliv  INTRODUCTION 

either  that  Struijs  used  Boaistuau  and  Brooke  and  Shakspere, 
or  that  he  used  Boaistuau  for  basis  and  some  now  lost 
composition  which  influenced  alike  Brooke's  poem  and 
Shakspere's  play. 

Now  it  becomes  very  apparent  in  several  ways  that 
Struijs  did  not  pilfer  Shakspere.  He  omits  connecting 
Paris  with  the  final  catastrophe,  following  Boaistuau  in  this 
as  in  the  three  nocturnal  meetings  between  the  lovers,  and 
he  lacks  that  perfect  tightening-up  and  compression  of  time 
characteristic  of  Shakspere's  play.  In  a  very  able  chapter 
Mr.  Fuller  examines  the  striking  verbal  similarities  between 
the  two  dramatists,  and  points  out,  what  is  very  apparent, 
that  the  text  of  Struijs  seems  in  no  way  a  copying  of  Shak 
spere,  but  rather,  in  the  points  of  resemblance,  like  a  cruder 
and  more  prolix  original  which  gave  rise  to  the  stronger 
and  more  concentrated  utterances  of  the  English  poet. 
What  seems  a  mere  hint  in  Struijs  is  worked  out  with 
dramatic  beauty  in  Shakspere,  and  small  incidents  in  the 
latter  like  the  fear  of  Paris'  page  and  the  sleeping  of 
Balthasar  in  the  churchyard  have  their  counterpart  in 
Struijs,  where  Pedro,  Romeo's  man,  is  afraid  of  ghosts  and 
sits  down  to  sleep.  Moreover,  the  Nurse,  in  Struijs  is 
not  a  comic  character,1  which  she  most  certainly  would 
be  had  Struijs  followed  Shakspere. 

Apparently,  then,  Struijs  did  not  use  Shakspere,  and  the 
only  other  explanation  left  to  us,  is  that  the  latter  himself 

i  Fuller,  pp.  19-20.  I  have  not  space  to  note  all  Mr.  Fuller's 
examples :  these  may  suffice. 


INTRODUCTION  xlv 

made  use  of  an  original  accessible  also  to  the  former.  It 
becomes  apparent,  too,  that  such  an  *  original'  antedated 
Brooke,  firstly,  because  Brooke  must  have  borrowed  from 
it  in  the  Nurse's  advice  to  Juliet  to  wed  Paris,  and  in 
Romeo's  lamentations  at  the  friar's  cell,1  and  secondly, 
because  the  *  original '  did  not  take  from  Brooke  the  comic 
character  of  the  Nurse  or  Romeo's  sorrow  when  separated 
from  Juliet,  the  former  of  which  was,  as  Mr.  Fuller  says, 
"  gratuity  for  any  dramatist."  In  fixing  the  date  of  this 
'original,'  which  must  have  been  English,  Mr.  Fuller 
places  it  between  1559  (the  date  of  Boaistuau's  Histolres) 
and  1562  (the  date  of  Brooke),  apparently  inferring  that 
this  'original'  was  based  on  Boaistuau,  and  hence  explaining 
the  debt  of  Struijs  to  the  latter.  I  see  no  reason  to 
support  this  view.  The  Boaistuau  passage  in  Struijs,  given 
by  Mr.  Fuller  himself,  is  so  similar  to  its  original  that  one 
is  forced  to  believe  that  Struijs  borrowed  either  from  the 
French  Novelist  direct,  or  from  his  early  Dutch  trans 
lation  ;  and  as  Shakspere  employed  both  Brooke  and  the 
'original'  in  composing  his  play,  so  Struijs  may  have  used 
Boaistuau  and  the  '  original '  in  composing  his.  These 
considerations  lead  to  important  conclusions.  They  mean 
that  the  earlier  'original'  was  not  necessarily  founded  on 
Boaistuau,  although  its  date  could  not  have  been  many 
years  prior  to  1 562.2 

1  Fuller,  p.  22  5  see  pp.  xliii.,  liii.-iv.,  Ivii. 

2  Brooke  says  he  "  lately "  saw  the  "  same  argument "  set  forth  on 
the  stage,  and  considering  the  condition  of  the  English  drama  prior  to 


xlvi  INTRODUCTION 

Mr.  Fuller  concludes  that  this  lost  '  original '  was  a  play, 
firstly,  because  Brooke  says  that  there  was  an  earlier  play  on 
this  subject,  and  secondly,  because  this  type  of  literature 
could  most  easily  have  travelled  to  Holland  through  the 
agency  of  an  English  theatrical  company.  We  know  that 
Brooke  borrowed  from  some  source  other  than  Boaistuau, 
and  that  he  says  he  saw  an  earlier  play  on  Romeo ;  but  the 
evidence  for  Mr.  Fuller's  absolute  contention  is  very  scanty. 
Were  the  *  original*  certainly  a  play,  one  would  expect  to 
find  resemblance  between  Shakspere  and  Struijs  in  the 
arrangement  of  scenes,  but  it  is  difficult  to  discover  any  such 
resemblance,  the  means  adopted  by  the  one  to  further  the 
action  are,  at  different  points,  distinct  from  those  adopted 
by  the  other.  What  happened  at  the  feast  has,  in  Struijs, 
to  be  told  in  narrative  by  Romeo  and  Thibout,  and  one 
scene  is  given  up  to  Romeo's  farewell  to  Verona.  Notwith 
standing  this,  however,  the  supposition  that  the  lost  link  is 
a  play,  is  probably  correct ;  but  one  must  insist,  in  regard 
to  the  paucity  of  the  evidence,  that  this  is  not  certain. 

Here,  then,  we  are  led  to  believe  again  that  there  was 
a  source  from  which  Shakspere  drew,  other  than  Brooke  ; 
and  we  have  to  remember  that  this  was  precisely  the 
conclusion  we  arrived  at,  from  a  consideration  of  Luigi 
Groto,  Boaistuau,  and  the  Italian  novels.  The  question 
naturally  suggests  itself  as  to  whether  the  source  from 
which  Struijs  drew  was  that  adaptation  of  a  play  or  tale 

1562,  it  seems  hardly  possible  to  date  the  unknown  source  earlier  than 
1555- 


INTRODUCTION  xlvii 

based  on,  or  similar  to,  Da  Porto  and  Bandello  to  which  we 
previously  referred.  It  may  be  thought  highly  probable 
that  this  was  so,  and  we  may  well  believe  that  there  could 
hardly  be  two  unknown  English  sources  from  which 
Shakspere  borrowed;  but,  although  I  accept  this  probability 
in  my  chart  of  the  development  of  the  Romeo  story,  there 
is  only  inference  to  support  the  case. 

Lope  de  Vega's  tragi-comedy  Los  Castelvines  y  Mm  tests1 
and  Don  Francisco  de  Rojas'  Los  Bandos  de  Verona,  both  of 
early  date,  were  based  on  the  version  of  Bandello.  The 
early  German  version,  Romeo  undh  Julietta,  extant  probably 
in  1624,  was  based  on  Shakspere' s  text,  of  which  it  is  little 
more  than  an  indifferent  remodelling. 

The  rough  draft  of  a  Latin  tragedy  Romeus  et  Julletta  in 
the  British  Museum  (Sloane  MS.  1775,  privately  printed 
by  Dr.  Gollancz)  is  based  on  Brooke's  poem.  It  is 
evidently  the  author's  holograph  MS.,  and  as  in  an  adjacent 
composition  in  the  same  hand  there  is  mention  of  Joseph 
Barnes  the  Oxford  printer,  and  Rex  Platonicus,  by  Sir  Isaac 
Wake,  which  itself  has  a  reference  to  an  oration  of  August, 
1605,  the  Latin  text  must  certainly  have  been  composed 
early  in  the  I7th  Century,  and  can  have  no  immediate 
connexion  with  Shakspere.2 


1  Both  this  and  the  following  play  were  translated  by  F.  W.  Cosens 
and  printed  privately  in  1869.     An  epitome  of  Lope  de  Vega,  so  trans 
lated,  is  given  by  Furness  in  his  Variorum  Romeo,  p.  470. 

2  Fuller,  p.  43.     The  MS.  contains,  besides,  a  madrigal  to  the  author 
of  Ignoramus,  acted  in  1615. 


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1  INTRODUCTION 

Criticism  of  Brooke's  Text. — Different  authorities 
have  held  the  most  contrary  opinions  concerning  our  author's 
work.  Schlegel  says:  "There  can  be  nothing  more  diffuse, 
more  wearisome,  than  the  rhyming  history  which  Shakspere's 
genius,  i  like  richest  alchemy/  has  changed  to  beauty  and  to 
worthiness."  Verplanck  calls  it,  with  all  its  faults,  a  noble 
poem,  and  Hudson  thinks  it  has  considerable  merit.  A  close 
criticism  of  Brooke's  poem  does  not  reveal  any  great  powers 
on  the  part  of  its  author,  and  most  of  the  virtues  that  it  has 
are  borrowed. 

Brooke's  poem,  however,  is  a  very  able  translation  of 
Boaistuau.  It  renders  the  sense  of  its  original  very  faith 
fully,  and  in  places  follows  the  text  with  absolute  accuracy. 
So  close  is  Brooke's  text  to  Boaistuau's  at  times  that  a  perusal 
of  the  latter  elucidated  several  words  in  the  English  which 
were  otherwise  not  quite  clear. 

Brooke's  faults  are  immediately  apparent ;  they  are  just 
the  faults  of  a  youthful  poet  of  his  time.  He  handles  his 
metre  well,  but  it  was  little  suited  to  his  theme.  His  poem 
often  displays  a  good  imagination,  and  possesses  delicate 
sentiment,  but  contains  endless  and  tiresome  repetition  of  the 
same  ideas  and  images.  Cupid,  Fortune,  and  the  three 
Fates  are  referred  to  and  apostrophised  till  one  is  weary  of 
them.  Brooke  affected  that  bombastic  and  grandiloquent 
style  which  was  then  coming  into  vogue,  and  which  was 
characterised  by :  (a}  excessive  alliteration ;  (b)  frequent 
classical  allusions ;  (c)  a  curious  form  of"  unnatural "  natural 
history,  as  Collier  called  it;  (d)  didactic  harangues;  (e) 


INTRODUCTION  li 

lengthy  soliloquies  ;  (/)  balanced  antithesis ;  (g)  extravagant 
description  and  artificial  sentiment.  Brooke  was  fond  of 
alliteration,  and  indulged  in  it  to  excess  : — 

For  delving  deeply  now  in  depth  of  deep  despair  (1.  1081.) 

He  often  uses  half-line  rhymes.  His  speeches  are  generally 
tediously  prolix  and  didactic,  and  some  of  his  soliloquies, 
dealing  with  the  subtlest  and  purest  emotions  and  ideas,  are 
expressed  at  such  length,  and  with  such  incongruity  of 
metaphor,  that  they  seem  to  be  almost  satirical  and  parodical. 
Brooke's  faults  are  faults  of  excess ;  and  a  simile  is  sometimes 
so  strained  and  elaborated  that  the  theme  itself  is  quite  ob 
scured  by  it  (see  11.  1 361-78).  His  style  led  him  to  compose 
lines  which  are  nothing  short  of  ludicrous : — 

"  And  up  unto  the  heavens  she  throws  her  wond'ring  head  and  hands." 

(1.  1928) 

He  affected  archaic  word-forms,  words,  and  phrases ;  and 
his  nouns  are,  as  a  rule,  amplified  by  some  heavy  and  coloured 
adjective,  few  of  them  being  able  to  do  duty  alone  : — 

"  With  cruel  hand  my  mourning  heart  would  pierce  with  bloody  knife." 

(1.  496) 

His  characters  vacillate  with  sudden  swiftness  between 
violent  extremes  of  emotion  ;  the  passion  he  portrays  strikes 
one  as  being,  not  infinitely  tender  and  delicate,  but  rude  and 
violent.  There  is  nothing  truly  organic  about  the  whole 
poem  ;  its  parts  are  out  of  proportion  ;  it  is  loose  in  its  con 
struction,  and  vagarious  in  its  progress.  Its  atmosphere  is 
that  of  melodrama,  and  there  is  not  one  truly  noble  person 
in  it. 


liv  INTRODUCTION 

likewise,  and  the  most  interesting  and  remarkable  verbal 
borrowings  are  to  be  found  at  this  point.  Shakspere  did 
not  portray  this  scene  in  its  entirety,  but  in  his  work,  too, 
come  out  some  of  these  Chaucer  phrases  obtained  through 
Brooke,  and  though  his  scene  is  apparently  based  on  the  lost 
"  original,"  we  learn  here  that  Romeo  has  been  a  "  madman," 
and  has  railed  on  his  birth,  etc.,  as  Troilus  did  in  Chaucer 
and  Romeus  in  Brooke.1  The  second  addition  made  by  the 
help  of  Chaucer  is  Romeus'  sorrow  in  his  exile,  which 
greatly  resembles  that  of  Troilus,  and  here  again  we  find 
close  verbal  borrowings.2  This  was  not  taken  up  by  Shak 
spere,  and  there  does  not  appear  to  have  been  any  similar 
incident  in  the  lost  "original," — a  consideration  which  points 
to  the  conclusion  (borne  out  by  other  facts)  that  Shakspere 
used  Brooke  most  where  his  version  coincided  with  the 
older  and  unknown  source.  In  determining  our  author's 
debt  to  Chaucer  the  student  should  beware  of  certain  re 
markable  passages  in  Brooke,  often  bearing  great  resemblance 
to  others  in  Chaucer,  but  which  have  come  to  Romeus 
through  Bandello  and  Boaistuau.  In  some  cases,  however, 
there  can  be  no  doubt  that  such  passages,  coming  through 
Boaistuau  as  they  did,  have  yet  been  moulded  into  their 
present  form  through  the  influence  of  similar  passages  in 
Chaucer  expressing  the  same  idea.3 


1  See  the  full  account,  Appendix  II.,  11.  1287-1507. 

2  Appendix  II.,  11.  1744-72. 

3  Appendix  II.,  11.  208,  314,  457,  824,  891  (?),  etc. 


INTRODUCTION  Ivii 

The  second  point  is  the  connexion  of  incidents.  Besides 
the  ladder  plot,  mentioned  above,  there  are  several  important 
incidents  which  merit:  attention.  In  Act  IV.,  Scene  ii.,  we 
find  Proteus  expressing  his  affection  to  Silvia  at  her  window 
above  him.  Valentine  and  Silvia  planned  secret  marriage 
and  flight,  and  Julia  disguised  herself  in  man's  attire  as  Juliet 
proposed  doing. 

This  evidence  is  fairly  conclusive ;  but  still  it  might  be 
contended  that  these  points  might  have  been  taken  from 
some  older  and  similar  play  or  poem.  A  consideration  of 
phrases,  however,  places  the  matter  in  a  more  certain  light. 
This  consideration  makes  the  third  point.  I  have  not  space 
here  to  give  the  quotations.  They  are  printed  in  Appendices 
I.  and  II,  where  the  reader  should  see  lines  207-9,  l  H5~6> 
1209.  I  omit  other  phrases,  which  are  somewhat  dubious. 

We  have  next  to  consider  Romeo  itself.  That  Shakspere 
used  Brooke  in  the  construction  of  his  tragedy  is  beyond 
question.  His  debt  is  considerable,  although  it  may  be  that 
he  followed  the  old  source  more  closely  in  construction. 
Brooke  himself  did  not  hesitate  to  depart  from  his  original : 
he  practically  created  the  character  of  the  Nurse ;  it  is  in 
his  version  first  that  the  names  of  Capulet's  guests  are 
written ;  he  made  the  apothecary ;  he  developed  Romeus' 
ravings  at  the  cell, — though  such  a  scene,  as  it  occurs  in 
Struijs,  must  have  been  in  the  earlier  English  source, — and 
he  pictured  his  sorrow  in  exile ;  he  introduced  the  scenes 
between  Romeus  and  the  Nurse,  and  between  the  Nurse  and 
Juliet  in  connexion  with  arranging  the  marriage,  and  created 


Iviii  INTRODUCTION 

the  incident  of  Ronieus  giving  the  money  to  the  Nurse.  Of 
most  of  these  innovations  Shakspere  availed  himself,  but  his 
tragedy  departs  in  many  important  particulars  from  Brooke's 
version.  These  are:  (i)  the  character  and  death  of  Mer- 
cutio ;  (2)  the  compression  of  the  action  from  over  nine 
months  to  five  days ;  (3)  Tybalt's  outcry  against  Romeo  at 
the  feast ;  (4)  the  slaying  of  Tybalt  after  his  killing  Mercutio 
under  Romeo's  arm,  not,  as  in  Brooke,  because  of  a  fury 
like  his  own,  kindled  in  Romeo ;  (5)  the  arrangement 
'between  Capulet  and  Paris  to  give  Juliet  to  the  latter  even 
before  her  first  meeting  with  Romeo ;  (6)  the  slaying  of 
Paris  at  the  tomb ;  (7)  the  perfection  of  the  characters. 
How  many  of  these  points  are  due  to  Shakspere,  and  how 
many  to  the  old  source  ? 

Mercutio,  we  saw,  came  from  the  lost "  original,"  but  it  is 
probable  that  Shakspere  individualised  him  more.  The  com 
pression  of  the  action,  a  most  potent  dramatic  change,  is 
due  to  the  great  dramatist,  but  the  slaying  of  Mercutio  was 
probably  somewhat  similar  in  the  lost  version  ;  and  Paris  (as 
in  Struijs)  may  there  have  been  earlier  introduced  than  in  AX 
Brooke,  but  the  fore-contract  of  marriage  and  the  slaying  of 
Paris  are  Shakespere's  own.  In  the  older  version,  too,  there 
was  probably  some  reference  to,  or  representation  of,  Tybalt's 
storm  at  the  feast.  The  most  interesting  point,  perhaps,  is 
(7)  the  perfection  of  the  characters.  In  the  poem  Romeo 
and  Juliet  have  both  golden  hair.  Juliet  is  fourteen  years 
old  in  the  play  and  sixteen  in  the  poem  ;  the  "wily  wench," 
according  to  Brooke,  laughs  at  deceiving  her  mother  (714), 


INTRODUCTION  lix 

and  following  her  mother's  instructions,  she  wilfully  leads 
Paris  on  to  woo  her  for  a  number  of  days,  after  the  banish 
ment  of  Romeo  (2263-75).  How  much  purer  and  more*- 
beautiful  is  Shakspere's  heroine  !  Brooke's  Romeus  possesses 
none  of  the  refinement  and  delicacy  of  Romeo :  Romeus  is 
like  a  semi-savage  in  love ;  his  grief  is  overdrawn  and  his 
passion  is  rendered  unnatural  by  Brooke's  lengthy  rhetoric. 
Note  how  he  speaks  to  Peter  in  1.  2626.  Laurence,  whom 
we  have  come  to  know  as  venerable  and  wise,  is  yet  in  the 
poem  said  to  have  secreted  his  "fair  friends"  at  his  cell  in 
his  youth  (1273,  and  see  Appendix  I.,  1 267).  The  prolixity 
of  his  speeches  is  quite  tiresome  :  Shakspere's  Laurence  says 
pointedly:  "I  will  be  brief"  (V.  iii.  229),  and  brief  he  is, 
compared  with  the  Friar  in  the  poem.  For  many  other 
minor  points,  the  use  of  "  Freetown,"  etc.,  and  the  striking 
verbal  borrowings  that  Shakspere  made  from  Brooke,  the 
reader  should  consult  Appendices  I.  and  II. 

Shakspere's  task,  as  a  dramatist,  was  to  unify  and  vivify  his 
narrative,  to  individualise  it  and  give  it  an  atmosphere  in 
keeping  with  its  moving  love  and  tragedy.  Every  change 
that  he  made  was  to  these  ends.  Brooke's  story  meanders 
on  like  a  listless  stream  in  a  strange  and  impossible  land ; 
Shakspere's  sweeps  on  like  a  broad  and  rushing  river,  singing 
and  foaming,  flashing  in  sunlight  and  darkening  in  cloud, 
carrying  all  things  irresistibly  to  where  it  plunges  over  the 
precipice  into  a  waste  of  waters  below.  A  rapturous  passion, 
expressed  in  a  perfect  lyricism,  and  reckless  of  all  on  earth 
that  did  not  lend  it  glory  and  add  to  its  greatness,  sweeps 


Ix  INTRODUCTION 

through  and  pervades  the  play :  all  the  fire  and  energy  of 
the  south  is  there,  the  unquestioning  idealism  of  youth 
which  seizes  hold  of  the  fairness  of  the  earth,  lives  in  it,  and 
abides  by  it.  Brooke's  Romeus  can  curse  the  world,  can  in 
the  extravagant  manner  of  the  poem,  curse  his  own  life  and 
pray  for  death ;  but  Romeo  never  really  loses  his  faith  in 
the  things  which  are,  ever  possesses  his  fundamental  belief 
in  joy  and  lo^e.  He  acts  with  southern  swiftness  and  resolu 
tion,  characteristic  of  a  man  who  revels  in  all  things  beautiful 
and  follows  unquestioningly  the  laws  of  the  ages ;  swiftly  he 
throws  aside  his  love  for  Rosaline,  and  swiftly  he  loves  Juliet; 
swiftly  he  weds  her,  and  swiftly  he  leaves  her  again  ;  when 
he  hears  of  her  supposed  death  he  acts  promptly  and  de 
cisively  ;  no  question  of  the  use  and  fitness  of  things  comes 
to  him  ;  he  ponders  no  action  before  execution  ;  he  troubles 
about  no  criterion  of  certitude  or  other  philosophical  pro 
blem  ;  he  never  pauses  to  consider,  like  his  antithesis  Hamlet, 
the  ultimate  end  of  his  own  life  or  of  another's,  or  of  the 
fair,  warm  flesh  which  he  can  see  and  take  joy  in  ;  and  yet, 
through  all,  he  is  no  sensualist  or  materialist,  rather  one 
ever  alive  to  the  tireless  spirit  that  works  in  man.  If  he 
hesitates,  it  is  his  love  which  holds  him  ;  if  he  complains,  it 
is  his  love  which  has  caused  his  trouble ;  if  he  weeps,  it  is 
not  because  he  believes  happiness  to  be  a  delusion,  but  be 
cause  it  is  real  and  good,  because  he  had  it  once  and  has  it 
no  longer.  If  we  may  anywhere  profess  to  see  the  character 
of  Shakspere  in  the  spring-time  of  his  labours,  it  must  be  in 
the  manner  he  has  worked,  selected,  and  developed  here. 


INTRODUCTION  Ixi 

Previous  Editions. — Brooke's  poem  has  often  been 
reprinted.  It  was  first  published  by  Richard  Tottel  (or 
Tothill),  the  great  law-printer,  in  1562.  Only  three  copies 
of  this  edition  are  known  ;  one  in  the  Malone  collection  in 
the  Bodleian ;  another  in  the  library  of  Mr.  Huth ;  and  a 
third,  imperfect,  at  Trinity  College,  Cambridge.  According 
to  the  Stationers'1  Registers,  Tottel  obtained  a  license  to 
reprint  the  book  in  1582;  no  copy  of  such  an  edition  is 
known.  Ralph  Robinson  reprinted  the  original  in  1587. 
Malone  printed  it  again  in  1780,  and  it  was  reissued  in  the 
Shakespeare  Variorum  Edition  of  1821.  It  appeared  in 
J.  P.  Collier's  Shakespeare's  Library,  1 843 .  Halliwell  reprinted 
it  in  his  Folio  Edition  of  Shakspere,  following  Collier ;  and 
Hazlitt,  correcting  his  text  from  the  original,  printed  it 
once  more  in  his  Shakespeare's  Library,  in  1874.  The  best 
edition  is  that  by  P.  A.  Daniel,  issued  by  the  New  Shakspere 
Society  in  1875. 

Painter's  "Palace  of  Pleasure."— Painter's Rhomeo 

find  Julietta  was  first  published  in  the  second  volume  of  his 
Palace  of  Pleasure,  in  1567.  The  whole  collection  of  tales 
was  published  in  two  volumes  at  different  dates ;  of  Vol.  I. 
three  editions  are  known,  dated  respectively  1566,  1569, 
and  1575  ;  of  Vol.  II.  only  two,  the  first  dated  November 
8th,  1567,  while  the  second,  which  is  dateless,  was  probably 
published  between  1575  and  15 So.1  The  undated  edition 
contains  emendations  and  additions. 

i  Daniel,  p.  xx. 


Ixii  INTRODUCTION 

As  Daniel  points  out,  it  is  probable  that  Painter  occasion 
ally  consulted  Brooke  in  making  his  translation  ;  but  his 
borrowings  are  neither  frequent  nor  considerable.  He  takes 
none  of  Brooke's  innovations,  and  adheres  tenaciously"  to 
Boaistuau's  text,  except  where  he  duplicates  terms  or  mis 
understands  his  original.  It  is  difficult  to  see  in  wjiat  way 
Shakspere  could  have  made  use  of  his  version.  For  a  fuller 
discussion  of  Painter's  novel,  I  refer  the  reader  to  Mr.  Daniel's 
Introduction.  ^ 

Before  closing  this  Introduction  I  have  to  express  my 
gratitude  to  Mr.  P.  A.  Daniel  for  the  kindly  and  ready  per 
mission  he  gave  me  to  make  any  use  I  cared  of  his  edition 
of  Brooke's  poem  and  Painter's  novel :  of  this  I  availed 
myself,  as  the  references  indicate.  To  Dr.  Furnivall  and  to 
Dr.  Gollancz  I  am  likewise  indebted  for  kindly  help  and 
advice. 


THE   TRAGICAL   HIS- 
tory  of  Romeus  and  Juliet,  writ 
ten  first  in  Italian  by  Bandell, 
and  now  in  English  by 
Ar.  Br. 


In  sedibus  Richardi  Tottelli. 
Cum  Privilegio. 


TO   THE   READER 

THE  God  of  all  Glory  created,  universally,  all  creatures 
to  set  forth  His  praise ;  both  those  which  we  esteem 
profitable  in  use  and  pleasure,  and  also  those  which  we 
accompt  noisome  and  loathsome.  But  principally  He  hath 
appointed  man  the  chiefest  instrument  of  His  honour,  not 
only  for  ministering  matter  thereof  in  man  himself,  but  as 
well  in  gathering  out  of  other  the  occasions  of  publishing 
God's  goodness,  wisdom,  and  power.  And  in  like  sort, 
every  doing  of  man  hath,  by  God's  dispensation,  something 
whereby  God  may  and  ought  to  be  honoured.  So  the 
good  doings  of  the  good  and  the  evil  acts  of  the  wicked, 
the  happy  success  of  the  blessed  and  the  woeful  proceedings 
of  the  miserable,  do  in  divers  sort  sound  one  praise  of  God. 
And  as  each  flower  yieldeth  honey  to  the  bee,  so  every 
example  ministereth  good  lessons  to  the  well-disposed  mind. 
The  glorious  triumph  of  the  continent  man  upon  the  lusts 
of  wanton  flesh,  encourageth  men  to  honest  restraint  of 
wild  affections ;  the  shameful  and  wretched  ends  of  such 
as  have  yielded  their  liberty  thrall  to  foul  desires  teach  men 
to  withhold  themselves  from  the  headlong  fall  of  loose 
dishonesty.  So,  to  like  effect,  by  sundry  means  the  good 
man's  example  biddeth  men  to  be  good,  and  the  evil  man's 


Ixvi  TO   THE    READER 

mischief  warneth  men  not  to  be  evil.  To  this  good  end 
serve  all  ill  ends  of  ill  beginnings.  And  to  this  end,  good 
Reader,  is  this  tragical  matter  written,  to  describe  unto 
thee  a  couple  of  unfortunate  lovers,  thralling  themselves  to 
unhonest  desire ;  neglecting  the  authority  and  advice  of 
parents  and  friends ;  conferring  their  principal  counsels 
with  drunken  gossips  and  superstitious  friars  (the  naturally 
fit  instruments  of  unchastity)  ;  attempting  all  adventures  of 
peril  for  th*  attaining  of  their  wished  lust ;  using  auricular 
confession,  the  key  of  whoredom  and  treason,  for  further 
ance  of  their  purpose ;  abusing  the  honourable  name  of 
lawful  marriage  to  cloak  the  shame  of  stolen  contracts ; 
finally  by  all  means  of  unhonest  life  hasting  to  most 
unhappy  death.  This  precedent,  good  Reader,  shall  be 
to  thee,  as  the  slaves  of  Lacedemon,  oppressed  with  excess  ot 
drink,  deformed  and  altered  from  likeness  of  men  both  in 
mind  and  use  of  body,  were  to  the  free-born  children,  so 
shewed  to  them  by  their  parents,  to  th*  intent  to  raise  in 
them  an  hateful  loathing  of  so  filthy  beastliness.  Here 
unto,  if  you  apply  it,  ye  shall  deliver  my  doing  from  offence 
and  profit  yourselves.  Though  I  saw  the  same  argument 
lately  set  forth  on  stage  with  more  commendation  than 
I  can  look  for — being  there  much  better  set  forth  than  I 
have  or  can  do — yet  the  same  matter  penned  as  it  is  may 
serve  to  like  good  effect,  if  the  readers  do  bring  with  them 
like  good  minds  to  consider  it,  which  hath  the  more 
encouraged  me  to  publish  it,  such  as  it  is. 

AR.  BR. 


TO   THE   READER 

AMID  the  desert  rocks,  the  mountain  bear 
Brings  forth  unformed,  unlike  herself,  her  young, 
Naught  else  but  lumps  of  flesh  withouten  hair : 
In  tract  of  time,  her  often-licking  tongue 

Gives  them  such  shape  as  doth,  ere  long,  delight 
The  lookers  on  :  Or  when  one  dog  doth  shake 
With  muzzled  mouth  the  joints  too  weak  to  fight ; 
Or  when  upright  he  standeth  by  his  stake, 

A  noble  crest  ;  or  wild  in  savage  wood 
A  dozen  dogs  one  holdeth  at  a  bay, 
With  gaping  mouth  and  stained  jaws  with  blood ; 
Or  else  when  from  the  farthest  heavens,  they 

The  lode-stars  are,  the  weary  pilate's  mark, 

In  storms  to  guide  to  haven  the  tossed  bark. 

Right  so  my  muse 

Hath  now  at  length,  with  travail  long,  brought  forth 
Her  tender  whelps,  her  divers  kinds  of  style, 
Such  as  they  are,  or  naught,  or  little  worth, 
Which  careful  travail  and  a  longer  while 
May  better  shape.     The  eldest  of  them,  lo ! 
I  offer  to  the  stake,  my  youthful  work, 


Ixviii  TO   THE    READER 

Which  one  reproachful  mouth  might  overthrow : 
The  rest — unlicked  as  yet — awhile  shall  lurk, 

Till  time  give  strength  to  meet  and  match  in  fight 

With  slander's  whelps.      Then  shall  they  tell  of  strife, 
Of  noble  triumphs  and  deeds  of  martial  might, 
And  shall  give  rules  of  chaste  and  honest  life. 

The  while  I  pray  that  ye  with  favour  blame, 
Or  rather  not  reprove  the  laughing  game 

Of  this  my  muse. 


THE   ARGUMENT 

LOVE  hath  inflamed  twain  by  sudden  sight, 
And  both  do  grant  the  thing  that  both  desire. 

They  wed  in  shrift  by  counsel  of  a  friar. 

Young  Romeus  climbs  fair  Juliet's  bower  by  night. 
Three  months  he  doth  enjoy  his  chief  delight. 

By  Tybalt's  rage  provoked  unto  ire, 

He  payeth  death  to  Tybalt  for  his  hire. 

A  banished  man  he  'scapes  by  secret  flight. 
New  marriage  is  offered  to  his  wife. 

She  drinks  a  drink  that  seems  to  reave  her  breath : 

They  bury  her  that  sleeping  yet  hath  life. 
Her  husband  hears  the  tidings  of  her  death. 

He  drinks  his  bane.     And  she  with  Romeus'  knife, 
When  she  awakes,  herself,  alas !  she  slay'th. 


ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 


ROMEUS   AND  JULIET 

THERE  is  beyond  the  Alps,  a  town  of  ancient  fame, 
Whose  bright  renown  yet  shineth  clear  :  Verona  men  it 
Built  in  a  happy  time,  built  on  a  fertile  soil,  [name ; 

Maintained  by  the  heavenly  fates,  and  by  the  townish  toil. 
The  fruitful  hills  above,  the  pleasant  vales  below,  5 

The  silver  stream  with  channel  deep,  that  thro'  the  town  doth 
The  store  of  springs  that  serve  for  use,  and  eke  for  ease,  [flow, 
And  other  more  commodities,  which  profit  may  and  please, — 
Eke  many  certain  signs  of  things  betid  of  old, 
To  fill  the  hungry  eyes  of  those  that  curiously  behold,      10 
Do  make  this  town  to  be  preferred  above  the  rest 
Of  Lombard  towns,  or  at  the  least,  compared  with  the  best. 
In  which  while  Escalus  as  prince  alone  did  reign, 
To  reach  reward  unto  the  good,  to  pay  the  lewd  with  pain, 
Alas,  I  rue  to  think,  an  heavy  hap  befell :  1 5 

Which  Boccace  scant,  not  my  rude  tongue,  were  able  forth  to 
Within  my  trembling  hand,  my  pen  doth  shake  for  fear,  [tell. 
And,  on  my  cold  amazed  head,  upright  doth  stand  my  hair. 
But  sith  she  doth  command,  whose  hest  I  must  obey, 
In  mourning  verse,  a  woeful  chance  to  tell  I  will  assay.     20 
Help,  learned  Pallas,  help,  ye  Muses  with  your  art, 
Help,  all  ye  damned  fiends  to  tell  of  joys  returned  to  smart. 


2  ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 

Help  eke,  ye  sisters  three,  my  skilless  pen  t'  indite : 
For  you  it  caused  which  I,  alas,  unable  am  to  write,    [place 
There  were  two  ancient  stocks,  which  Fortune  high  did 
Above  the  rest,  indued  with  wealth,  and  nobler  of  their  race, 
Loved  of  the  common  sort,  loved  of  the  prince  alike, 
And  like  unhappy  were  they  both,  when  Fortune  list  to  strike; 
Whose  praise,  with  equal  blast,  Fame  in  her  trumpet  blew ; 
The  one  was  cleped  Capulet,  and  th'  other  Pvlontague.      30 
A  wonted  use  it  is,  that  men  of  likely  sort, 
(I  wot  not  by  what  fury  forced)  envy  each  other's  port. 
So  these,  whose  egall  state  bred  envy  pale  of  hue,         [grew. 
And  then,  of  grudging  envy's  root,  black  hate  and  rancour 
As,  of  a  little  spark,  oft  riseth  mighty  fire,  3  5 

So  of  a  kindled  spark  of  grudge,  in  flames  flash  out  their  ire  : 
And  then  their  deadly  food,  first  hatched  of  trifling  strife, 
Did  bathe  in  blood  of  smarting  wounds ;  it  reaved  breath  and 
No  legend  lie  I  tell,  scarce  yet  their  eyes  be  dry,  [life, 

That  did   behold  the  grisly  sight,  with  wet  and  weeping 
eye.  40 

But  when  the  prudent  prince,  who  there  the  sceptre  held, 
So  great  a  new  disorder  in  his  commonweal  beheld  ; 
By  gentle  mean  he  sought,  their  choler  to  assuage ; 
And  by  persuasion  to  appease,  their  blameful  furious  rage. 
But  both  his  words  and  time,  the  prince  hath  spent  in  vain :  45 
So  rooted  was  the  inward  hate,  he  lost  his  busy  pain. 
When  friendly  sage  advice,  ne  gentle  words  avail, 
By  thund'ring  threats,  and  princely  power  their  courage  'gan 
he  quail. 


ROMEUS  AND  JULIET  3 

In  hope  that  when  he  had  the  wasting  flame  supprest, 
In  time  he  should  quite  quench  the  sparks  that  burned  within 
their  breast.  50 

Now  whilst  these  kindreds  do  remain  in  this  estate, 
And  each  with  outward  friendly  show  doth  hide  his  inward 
One  Romeus,  who  was  of  race  a  Montague,  [hate  : 

Upon  whose  tender  chin,  as  yet,  no  manlike  beard  there  grew, 
Whose  beauty  and  whose  shape  so  far  the  rest  did  stain,     55 
That  from  the  chief  of  Verone  youth  he  greatest  fame  did  gain, 
Hath  found  a  maid  so  fair  (he  found  so  foul  his  hap), 
Whose  beauty,  shape,  and  comely  grace,  did  so  his  heart  en- 
That  from  his  own  affairs,  his  thought  she  did  remove  ;  [trap, 
Only  he  sought  to  honour  her,  to  serve  her  and  to  love.  60 
To  her  he  writeth  oft,  oft  messengers  are  sent, 
At  length,  in  hope  of  better  speed,  himself  the  lover  went, 
Present  to  plead  for  grace,  which  absent  was  not  found  : 
And  to  discover  to  her  eye  his  new  received  wound. 
But  she  that  from  her  youth  was  fostered  evermore  65 

With  virtue's  food,  and  taught  in  school  of  wisdom's  skilful 
By  answer  did  cut  oif  th' affections  of  his  love,  [lore  ; 

That  he  no  more  occasion  had  so  vain  a  suit  to  move. 
So  stern  she  was  of  cheer,  for  all  the  pain  he  took, 
That,  in  reward  of  toil,  she  would  not  give  a  friendly  look.  70 
And  yet  how  much  she  did  with  constant  mind  retire ; 
So  much  the  more  his  fervent  mind  was  pricked  forth  by 

desire. 

But  when  he  many  months,  hopeless  of  his  recure, 
Had  served  her,  who  forced  not  what  pains  he  did  endure, 


4  ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 


At  length  he  thought  to  leave  Verona,  and  to  prove          75 

If  change  of  place  might  change  away  his  ill-bestowed  love  ; 

And  speaking  to  himself,  thus  Jgan  he  make  his  moan  : 

'  What  booteth  me  to  love  and  serve  a  fell,  unthankful  one, 

Sith  that  my  humble  suit  and  labour  sowed  in  vain,          79 

Can  reap  none  other  fruit  at  all  but  scorn  and  proud  disdain  ? 

What  way  she  seeks  to  go,  the  same  I  seek  to  run,       [shun. 

But  she  the  path  wherein  I  tread,  with  speedy  flight  doth 

I  cannot  live,  except  that  near  to  her  I  be  ; 

She  is  aye  best  content  when  she  is  farthest  off  from  me. 

Wherefore  henceforth  I  will  far  from  her  take  my  flight  ;  8  5 

Perhaps  mine  eye  once  banished  by  absence  from  her  sight, 

This  fire  of  mine,  that  by  her  pleasant  eyne  is  fed, 

Shall  little  and  little  wear  away,  and  quite  at  last  be  dead.' 

But  whilst  he  did  decree  this  purpose  still  to  keep, 
A  contrary,  repugnant  thought  sank  in  his  breast  so  deep,  90 
That  doubtful  is  he  now  which  of  the  twain  is  best  : 
In  sighs,  in  tears,  in  plaint,  in  care,  in  sorrow  and  unrest, 
He  moans  the  day,  he  wakes  the  long  and  weary  night;  [bright 
So  deep  hath  love  with  piercing  hand,  y-graved  her  beauty 
Within  his  breast,  and  hath  so  mastered  quite  his  heart,    95 
That  he  of  force  must  yield  as  thrall;  —  no  way  is  left  to  start. 
He  cannot  stay  his  step,  but  forth  still  must  he  run  ; 
He  languisheth  and  melts  away,  as  snow  against  the  sun. 
His  kindred  and  allies  do  wonder  what  he  ails, 
And  each  of  them  in  friendly  wise  his  heavy  hap  bewails.    100 
But  one  among  the  rest,  the  trustiest  of  his  feres, 
Far  more  than  he  with  counsel  filled,  and  riper  of  his  years, 


ROMEUS  AND  JULIET  5 

'Gan  sharply  him  rebuke,  such  love  to  him  he  bare, 
That  he  was  fellow  of  his  smart,  and  partner  of  his  care. 
*  What  mean'st  thou,  Romeus,  quoth  he,  what  doting  rage    I  o  5 
Doth  make  thee  thus  consume  away  the  best  part  of  thine  age, 
In  seeking  her  that  scorns,  and  hides  her  from  thy  sight, 
Not  forcing  all  thy  great  expense,  ne  yet  thy  honour  bright, 
Thy  tears,  thy  wretched  life,  ne  thine  unspotted  truth,   109 
Which  are  of  force,  I  ween,  to  move  the  hardest  heart  to  ruth  ? 
Now  for  our  friendship's  sake,  and  for  thy  health,  I  pray, 
That  thou  henceforth  become  thine  own. — Oh,  give  no  more 
Unto  a  thankless  wight  thy  precious  free  estate ;  [away 

In  that  thou  lovest  such  a  one,  thou  seem'st  thyself  to  hate. 
For  she  doth  love  elsewhere, — and  then  thy  time  is  lorn,  115 
Or  else  (what  booteth  thee  to  sue  ?)  Love's  court  she  hath 

forsworn. 

Both  young  thou  art  of  years,  and  high  in  Fortune's  grace : 
What  man  is  better  shaped  than  thou  ?  Who  hath  a  sweeter 

face  ? 

By  painful  studies'  mean,  great  learning  hast  thou  won  ;   119 
Thy  parents  have  none  other  heir,  thou  art  their  only  son. 
What  greater  grief,  trowst  thou,  what  woeful  deadly  smart 
Should  so  be  able  to  distrain  thy  seely  father's  heart, 
As  in  his  age  to  see  thee  plunged  deep  in  vice, 
When  greatest  hope  he  hath  to  hear  thy  virtue's  fame  arise  ? 
What  shall  thy  kinsmen  think,  thou  cause  of  all  their  ruth?  125 
Thy  deadly  foes  do  laugh  to  scorn  thy  ill-employed  youth. 
Wherefore  my  counsel  is,  that  thou  henceforth  begin 
To  know  and  fly  the  error  which  too  long  thou  livedst  in. 


6  ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 

Remove  the  veil  of  love,  that  keeps  thine  eyes  so  blind, 
That  thou  ne  canst  the  ready  path  of  thy  forefathers  find.    1 3  o 
But  if  unto  thy  will  so  much  in  thrall  thou  art, 
Yet  in  some  other  place  bestow  thy  witless  wand'ring  heart. 
Choose  out  some  worthy  dame,  her  honour  thou  and  serve, 
Who  will  give  ear  to  thy  complaint,  and  pity  ere  thou  sterve. 
But  sow  no  more  thy  pains  in  such  a  barren  soil,  135 

As  yields  in  harvest  time  no  crop,  in  recompense  of  toil. 
Ere  long  the  townish  dames  together  will  resort ; 
Some  one  of  beauty,  favour,  shape,  and  of  so  lovely  port, 
With  so  fast  fixed  eye,  perhaps  thou  mayst  behold,  139 

That  thou  shalt  quite  forget  thy  love,  and  passions  past  of  old.' 
The  young  man's  listening  ear  received  the  wholesome 

sound, 

And  reason's  truth  y-planted  so,  within  his  head  had  ground; 
That  now  with  healthy  cool  y-tempered  is  the  heat,  [fret. 
And  piecemeal  wears  away  the  grief  that  erst  his  heart  did 
To  his  approved  friend  a  solemn  oath  he  plight,  145 

At  every  feast  y-kept  by  day,  and  banquet  made  by  night, 
At  pardons  in  the  church,  at  games  in  open  street, 
And  everywhere  he  would  resort  where  ladies  wont  to  meet; 
Eke  should  his  savage  heart  like  all  indifferently, 
For  he  would  view  and  judge  them  all  with  unallured  eye.  1 50 
How  happy  had  he  been,  had  he  not  been  forsworn  ; 
But  twice  as  happy  had  he  been,  had  he  been  never  born. 
For  ere  the  moon  could  thrice  her  wasted  horns  renew, 
False  Fortune  cast  for  him,  poor  wretch,  a  mischief  new  to 
brew. 


\ 


ROMEUS  AND  JULIET  7 

The  weary  winter  nights  restore  the  Christmas  games,   155 
And  now  the  season  doth  invite  to  banquet  townish  dames. 
And  first  in  Capel's  house,  the  chief  of  all  the  kin 
Spar'th  for  no  cost,  the  wonted  use  of  banquets  to  begin. 
No  lady  fair  or  foul  was  in  Verona  town, 
No  knight  or  gentleman  of  high  or  low  renown,  160 

But  Capulet  himself  hath  bid  unto  his  feast, 
Or  by  his  name  in  paper  sent,  appointed  as  a  geast. 
Young  damsels  thither  flock,  of  bachelors  a  rout, 
Not  so  much  for  the  banquet's  sake,  as  beauties  to  search  out. 
But  not  a  Montague  would  enter  at  his  gate,  165 

(For  as  you  heard,  the  Capulets  and  they  were  at  debate) 
Save  Romeus,  and  he,  in  mask  with  hidden  face, 
The  supper  done,  with  other  five  did  press  into  the  place. 
When  they  had  masked  awhile,  with  dames  in  courtly  wise, 
All  did  unmask,  the  rest  did  show  them  to  their  ladies'  eyes  ; 
But  bashful  Romeus  with  shamefast  face  forsook  171 

The  open  press,  and  him  withdrew  into  the  chamber's  nook. 
But  brighter  than  the  sun,  the  waxen  torches  shone, 
That  maugre  what  he  could,  he  was  espied  of  everyone. 
But  of  the  women  chief,  their  gazing  eyes  that  threw,      175 
To  wonder  at  his  sightly  shape  and  beauty's  spotless  hue, 
With  which  the  heavens  him  had  and  nature  so  bedecked, 
That  ladies  thought  the  fairest  dames  were  foul  in  his  respect. 
And  in  their  head  beside,  another  wonder  rose, 
How  he  durst  put  himself  in  throng  among  so  many  foes.    1 80 
Of  courage  stout  they  thought  his  coming  to  proceed  : 
And  women  love  an  hardy  heart,  as  I  in  stories  read. 


8  ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 

The  Capulets  disdain  the  presence  of  their  foe, 
Yet  they  suppress  their  stirred  ire,  the  cause  I  do  not  know: 
Perhaps  t'  offend  their  guests  the  courteous  knights  are  loth,  185 
Perhaps  they  stay  from  sharp  revenge,  dreading  the  Prince's 
Perhaps  for  that  they  shamed  to  exercise  their  rage     [wroth. 
Within  their  house,  'gainst  one  alone,  and  him  of  tender  age. 
They  use  no  taunting  talk,  ne  harm  him  by  their  deed  ; 
They  neither  say, '  What  mak'st  thou  here  ? '  ne  yet  they  say, 

'Godspeed.'  190 

So  that  he  freely  might  the  ladies  view  at  ease ; 
And  they  also  beholding  him,  their  change  of  fancies  please  ; 
Which  Nature  had  him  taught  to  do  with  such  a  grace, 
That  there  was  none  but  joyed  at  his  being  there  in  place. 
With  upright  beam  he  weighed  the  beauty  of  each  dame,    195 
And  judged  who  best,  and  who  next  her,  was  wrought  in 

Nature's  frame. 

At  length  he  saw  a  maid,  right  fair,  of  perfect  shape, 
Which  Theseus  or  Paris  would  have  chosen  to  their  rape. 
Whom  erst  he  never  saw ;  of  all  she  pleased  him  most ; 
Within  himself  he  said  to  her,  Thou  j  ustly  may'st  thee  boast  200 
Of  perfect  shape's  renown,  and  beauty's  sounding  praise, 
Whose  like  ne  hath,  ne  shall  be  seen,  ne  liveth  in  our  days. 
And  whilst  he  fixed  on  her  his  partial  pierced  eye, 
His  former  love,  for  which  of  late  he  ready  was  to  die, 
Is  now  as  quite  forgot,  as  it  had  never  been  :  205 

The  proverb  saith,  *  Unminded  oft  are  they  that  are  unseen.' 
And  as  out  of  a  plank  a  nail  a  nail  doth  drive, 
So  novel  love  out  of  the  mind  the  ancient  love  doth  rive. 


ROMEUS  AND  JULIET  9 

This  sudden  kindled  fire  in  time  is  wox  so  great,  [fiery  heat. 
That  only  death  and  both  their  bloods  might  quench  the 
When  Romeus  saw  himself  in  this  new  tempest  tossed,  211 
Where  both  was  hope  of  pleasant  port,  and  danger  to  be  lost, 
He  doubtful,  scarcely  knew  what  countenance  to  keep ; 
In  Lethe's  flood  his  wonted  flames  were  quenched  and 

drenched  deep. 

Yea,  he  forgets  himself,  ne  is  the  wretch  so  bold  2 1 5 

To  ask  her  name,  that  without  force  hath  him  in  bondage 
Ne  how  t' unloose  his  bonds  doth  the  poor  fool  devise,  [fold.      (jO^ 
But  only  seeketh  by  her  sight  to  feed  his  hungry  eyes :    [bait : 
Through  them  he  swalloweth  down  love's  sweet  impoisoned 
How  surely  are  the  wareless  wrapt  by  those  that  lie  in  wait ! 
So  is  the  poison  spread  throughout  his  bones  and  veins,  221 
That  in  a  while,  alas,  the  while,  it  hasteth  deadly  pains. 
Whilst  Juliet,  for  so  this  gentle  damsel  hight, 
From  side  to  side  on  every  one  did  cast  about  her  sight : 
At  last  her  floating  eyes  were  anchored  fast  on  him,        225 
Who  for  her  sake  did  banish  health  and  freedom  from  each 
He  in  her  sight  did  seem  to  pass  the  rest  as  far  [limb. 

As  Phoebus'  shining  beams  do  pass  the  brightness  of  a  star. 
In  wait  lay  warlike  Love  with  golden  bow  and  shaft, 
And  to  his  ear  with  steady  hand  the  bowstring  up  he  raft. 
Till  now  she  had  escaped  his  sharp  inflaming  dart,          231 
Till  now  he  listed  not  assault  her  young  and  tender  heart. 
His  whetted  arrow  loosed,  so  touched  her  to  the  quick, 
That  through  the  eye  it  strake  the  heart,  and  there  the 

head  did  stick. 


io  ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 

It  booted  not  to  strive,  for  why,  she  wanted  strength ;    235 
The  weaker  aye  unto  the  strong  offeree  must  yield,  at  length. 
The  pomps  now  of  the  feast  her  heart  'gins  to  despise ; 
And  only  joyeth  when  her  eyne  meet  with  her  lover's  eyes. 
When  their  new  smitten  hearts  had  fed  on  loving  gleams, 
Whilst,  passing  to  and  fro  their  eyes,  y-mingled  were  their 

beams. 

Each  of  these  lovers  'gan  by  other's  looks  to  know, 
That  friendship  in  their  breast  had  root,  and  both  would 

have  it  grow.  242 

When  thus  in  both  their  hearts  had  Cupid  made  his  breach, 
And  each  of  them  had  sought  the  mean  to  end  the  war  by 
Dame  Fortune  did  assent  their  purpose  to  advance,  [speech, 
With  torch  in  hand  a  comely  knight  did  fetch  her  forth  to 
She  quit  herself  so  well,  and  with  so  trim  a  grace,  [dance  ; 
That  she  the  chief  praise  won  that  night  from  all  Verona  race. 
The  whilst  our  Romeus  a  place  had  warely  won,  249 

Nigh  to  the  seat  where  she  must  sit,  the  dance  once  being 
Fair  Juliet  turned  to  her  chair  with  pleasant  cheer,    [done. 
And  glad  she  was  her  Romeus  approached  was  so  near. 
At  th'  one  side  of  her  chair  her  lover  Romeo, 
And  on  the  other  side  there  sat  one  called  Mercutio ; 
A  courtier  that  each  where  was  highly  had  in  price,       255 
For  he  was  courteous  of  his  speech,  and  pleasant  of  device. 
Even  as  a  lion  would  among  the  lambs  be  bold, 
Such  was  among  the  bashful  maids  Mercutio  to  behold. 
With  friendly|gnj:>ejhe  seized  fair  Juliet's  snowish  hand : 
A  gift  he  had  tlTatNature  gave  him  in  his  swathing  band, 


ROMEUS  AND  JULIET  1 1 

That  frozen  mountain  ice  was  never  half  so  cold,  261 

As  were  his  hands,  though  ne'er  so  near  the  fire  he  did  them 
As  soon  as  had  the  knight  the  virgin's  right  hand  raught,  [hold. 
Within   his  trembling  hand  her  left  hath  loving  Roflieus 
For  he  wist  well  himself  for  her  abode  most  pain,     [caught. 
And  well  he  wist  she  loved  him  best,  unless  she  list  to  feign. 
Then  she  with  tender  hand  u'«  tender  palm  hath  pressed  ; 
What  joy,  trow  you,  was  grafted  so  in  Romeus'  cloven  breast  ? 
The  sudden  sweet  delight  hath  stopped  quite  his  tongue, 
Ne  can  he  claim  of  her  his  right,  ne  crave  redress  of  wrong. 
But  she  espied  straightway,  by  changing  of  his  hue          271 
From  pale  to  red,  from  red  to  pale,  and  so  from  pale  anew, 
That  vehement  love  was  cause,  why  so  his  tongue  did  stay, 
And  so  much  more  she  longed  to  hear  what  Love  could 

teach  him  say. 

When  she  had  longed  long,  and  he  long  held  his  peace,     275 
And  her  desire  of  hearing  him,  by  silence  did  increase, 
At  last,  with  trembling  voice  and  shamefast  cheer,  the  maid 
Unto  her  Romeus  turned  herself,  and  thus  to  him  she  said  : 
*  O  blessed  be  the  time  of  thy  arrival  here  : '  [near, 

But  ere  she  could  speak  forth  the  rest,  to  her  Love  drew  so 
And  so  within  her  mouth,  her  tongue  he  glued  fast,  281 
That  no  one  word  could  'scape  her  more  than  what  already 

passed. 

In  great  contented  ease  the  young  man  straight  is  rapt : 
'  What  chance,'  quoth  he,  '  un'ware  to  me,  O  lady  mine,  is  hapt, 
That  gives  you  worthy  cause  my  coming  here  to  bliss  ? '    285 
Fair  Juliet  was  come  again  unto  herself  by  this : 


12  ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 

First  ruthfully  she  looked,  then  said  with  smiling  cheer : 
'  Marvel  no  whit,  my  heart's  delight,  my  only  knight  and  fere, 
Mercutio's  icy  hand  had  ail-to  frozen  mine, 
And  of  thy  goodness  thou  again  hast  warmed  it  with  thine.' 
Whereto  with  stayed  brow,  'gan  Romeus  to  reply :          291 
'  If  so  the  gods  have  granted  me  such  favour  from  the  sky, 
That  by  my  being  here  some  service  I  have  done 
That  pleaseth  you,  I  am  as  glad,  as  I  a  realm  had  won.  294 
O  well-bestowed  time,  that  hath  the  happy  hire,        [desire. 
Which  I  would  wish,  if  I  might  have,  my  wished  heart's 
For  I  of  God  would  crave,  as  price  of  pains  forepast, 
To  serve,  obey,  and  honour  you,  so  long  as  life  shall  last ; 
As  proof  shall  teach  you  plain,  if  that  you  like  to  try 
His  faultless  truth,  that  nill  for  aught  unto  his  lady  lie.      300 
But  if  my  touched  hand  have  warmed  yours  some  deal, 
Assure  yourself  the  heat  is  cold,  which  in  your  hand  you  feel, 
Compared  to  such  quick  sparks  and  glowing  furious  glead, 
As  from  your  beauty's  pleasant  eyne,  Love  caused  to  proceed  ; 
Which  have  so  set  on  fire  each  feeling  part  of  mine,        305 
That  lo,  my  mind  doth  melt  away,  my  outward  parts  do  pine. 
And  but  you  help,  all  whole,  to  ashes  shall  I  turn ; 
Wherefore,  alas,  have  ruth  on  him,  whom  you  do  force  to 

burn.' 

Even  with  his  ended  tale,  the  torches'  dance  had  end, 
And  Juliet  of  force  must  part  from  her  new  chosen  friend. 
His  hand  she  clasped  hard,  and  all  her  parts  did  shake,  3 1 1 
When  leisureless  with  whisp'ring  voice  thus  did  she  answer 

make  : 


ROMEUS  AND  JULIET  13 

You  are  no  more  your  own,  dear  friend,  than  I  am  yours, 
My  honour  saved,  prest  t'obey  your  will,  while  life  en 
dures. 

Lo,  here  the  lucky  lot  that  seld  true  lovers  find, 
Each  takes  away  the  other's  heart,  and  leaves  the  own  behind. 
A  happy  life  is  love,  if  God  grant  from  above,  317 

That  heart  with  heart  by  even  weight  do  make  exchange  of 
But  Romeus  gone  from  her,  his  heart  for  care  is  cold  ;      [love. 
He  hath  forgot  to  ask  her  name  that  hath  his  heart  in  hold. 
With  forged  careless  cheer,  of  one  he  seeks  to  know,        3  2 1 
Both  how  she  highland  whence  she  came,  that  him  enchanted 
So  hath  he  learned  her  name,  and  know'th  she  is  no  geast,  [so. 
Her  father  was  a  Capulet,  and  master  of  the  feast. 
Thus  hath  his  foe  in  choice  to  give  him  life  or  death,     325 
That  scarcely  can  his  woeful  breast  keep  in  the  lively  breath. 
Wherefore  with  piteous  plaint  fierce  Fortune  doth  he  blame, 
That  in  his  ruth  and  wretched  plight  doth  seek  her  laugh- 
And  he  reproveth  Love,  chief  cause  of  his  unrest,   [ing  game. 
Who  ease  and  freedom  hath  exiled  out  of  his  youthful  breast. 
Twice  hath  he  made  him  serve,  hopeless  of  his  reward  5331 
Of  both  the  ills  to  choose  the  less,  I  ween  the  choice  were 
First  to  a  ruthless  one  he  made  him  sue  for  grace,        [hard. 
And  now  with  spur  he  forceth  him  to  run  an  endless  race. 
Amid  these  stormy  seas  one  anchor  doth  him  hold,         335 
He  serveth  not  a  cruel  one,  as  he  had  done  of  old. 
And  therefore  is  content,  and  chooseth  still  to  serve, 
Though  hap  should  swear  that  guerdonless  the  wretched 
wight  should  sterve. 


14  ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 

The  lot  of  Tantalus  is,  Romeus,  like  to  thine ; 

For  want  of  food  amid  his  food,  the  miser  still  doth  pine. 

As  careful  was  the  maid  what  way  were  best  devise     341 
To  learn  his  name,  that  entertained  her  in  so  gentle  wise, 
Of  whom  her  heart  received  so  deep,  so  wide  a  wound. 
An  ancient  dame  she  called  to  her,  and  in  her  ear  'gan  round. 
This  old  dame  in  her  youth  had  nursed  her  with  her  milk, 
With  slender  needle  taught  her  sew,  and  how  to  spin  with  silk. 
'What  twain  are  those/  quoth  she,' which  press  unto  the  door, 
Whose  pages  in  their  hand  do  bear  two  torches  light  before  ? ' 
And  then  as  each  of  them  had  of  his  household  name, 
So  she  him  named  yet  once  again,  the  young  and  wily  dame. 
'  And  tell  me,  who  is  he  with  visor  in  his  hand,  351 

That  yonder  doth  in  masking  weed  beside  the  window  stand?' 
'  His  name  is  Romeus,'  said  she, '  a  Montague,  [households  rue.' 
Whose  father's  pride  first  stirred  the  strife  which  both  your 
The  word  of  Montague  her  joys  did  overthrow,  355 

And  straight  instead  of  happy  hope,  despair  began  to  grow. 
'  What  hap  have  I,'  quoth  she,  *  to  love  my  father's  foe  ? 
What,  am  I  weary  of  my  weal  ?  What,  do  I  wish  my  woe  ? ' 
But  though  her  grievous  pains  distrained  her  tender  heart, 
Yet  with  an  outward  show  of  joy  she  cloaked  inward  smart ; 
And  of  the  courtlike  dames  her  leave  so  courtly  took,  361 
That  none  did  guess  the  sudden  change  by  changing  of  her 
Then  at  her  mother's  hest  to  chamber  she  her  hied,  [look. 
So  well  she  feigned,  mother  ne  nurse  the  hidden  harm  descried. 
But  when  she  should  have  slept,  as  wont  she  was,  in  bed,  365 
Not  half  a  wink  of  quiet  sleep  could  harbour  in  her  head. 


ROMEUS  AND  JULIET  15 

For  lo,  an  hugy  heap  of  divers  thoughts  arise,  [her  eyes. 
That  rest  have  banished  from  her  heart,  and  slumber  from 
And  now  from  side  to  side  she  tosseth  and  she  turns, 
And  now  for  fear  she  shivereth,  and  now  for  love  she  burns. 
And  now  she  likes  her  choice,  and  now  her  choice  she  blames, 
And  now  each  hour  within  her  head  a  thousand  fancies  frames. 
Sometime  in  mind  to  stop  amid  her  course  begun,  373 

Sometime  she  vows,  what  so  betide,  th' attempted  race  to  run. 
Thus  danger's  dread  and  love  within  the  maiden  fought : 
The  fight  was  fierce,  continuing  long  by  their  contrary 
In  turning  maze  of  love  she  wand'reth  to  and  fro,  [thought. 
Then  standeth  doubtful  what  to  do,  lost,  overpressed  with  woe. 
How  so  her  fancies  cease,  her  tears  did  never  blin,  [begin  : 
With  heavy  cheer  and  wringed  hands  thus  doth  her  plaint 
'  Ah,  silly  fool/  quoth  she, i  y-caught  in  subtle  snare !  [care ! 
Ah,  wretched  wench,  bewrapt  in  woe  !  Ah,  caitiff  clad  with 
Whence  come  these  wand'ring  thoughts  to  thy  unconstant 

breast  r 

By  straying  thus  from  reason's  law,  that  reave  thy  wonted  rest. 
What  if  his  subtle  brain  to  feign  have  taught  his  tongue,  385 
And  so  the  snake  that  lurks  in  grass  thy  tender  heart  hath 
What  if  with  friendly  speech  the  traitor  lie  in  wait,  [stung  ? 
As  oft  the  poisoned  hook  is  hid,  wrapt  in  the  pleasant  bait  ? 
Oft  under  cloak  of  truth  hath  Falsehood  served  her  lust ; 
And  turned  their  honour  into  shame,  that  did  so  slightly 
What,  was  not  Dido  so,  a  crowned  queen,  defamed  ?  [trust. 
And  eke,  for  such  a  heinous  crime,  have  men  not  Theseus 

blamed  ? 


1 6  ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 

A  thousand  stories  more,  to  teach  me  to  beware, 
In  Boccace  and  in  Ovid's  books  too  plainly  written  are. 
Perhaps,  the  great  revenge  he  cannot  work  by  strength,   395 
By  subtle  sleight,  my  honour  stained,  he  hopes  to  work  at 
So  shall  I  seek  to  find  my  father's  foe  his  game ;        [length. 
So,  I  befiled,  Report  shall  take  her  trump  of  black  defame, 
Whence  she  with  puffed  cheek  shall  blow  a  blast  so  shrill 
Of  my  dispraise,  that  with  the  noise  Verona  shall  she  fill.  400 
Then  I,  a  laughing-stock  through  all  the  town  become, 
Shall  hide  myself,  but  not  my  shame,  within  an  hollow 
Straight  underneath  her  foot  she  treadeth  in  the  dust    [tomb. 
Her  troublesome  thought,  as  wholly  vain,  y-bred  of  fond 
No,  no,  by  God  above,  I  wot  it  well,  quoth  she,     [distrust. 
Although  I  rashly  spake  before,  in  no  wise  can  it  be       406 
That  where  such  perfect  shape  with  pleasant  beauty  rests, 
There  crooked  craft  and  treason  black  should  be  appointed 
Sage  writers  say,  the  thoughts  are  dwelling  in  the  eyne ;  [guests. 
Then  sure  I  am,  as  Cupid  reigns,  that  Romeus  is  mine.     410 
The  tongue  the  messenger  eke  call  they  of  the  mind ; 
So  that  I  see  he  loveth  me ;  shall  I  then  be  unkind  ? 
His  face's  rosy  hue  I  saw  full  oft  to  seek ;  [cheek. 

And  straight  again  it  flashed  forth,  and  spread  in  either 
His  fix6d  heavenly  eyne,  that  through  me  quite  did  pierce 
His  thoughts  unto  my  heart,  my  thought  they  seemed  to  re- 
What  meant  his  falt'ring  tongue  in  telling  of  his  tale  ?   [hearse. 
The  trembling  of  his  joints,  and  eke  his  colour  waxen  pale  ? 
And  whilst  I  talked  with  him,  himself  he  hath  exiled 
Out  of  himself,  as  seemed  me,  ne  was  I  sure  beguiled.    420 


ROMEUS  AND  JULIET  17 

Those  arguments  of  love  Craft  wrate  not  in  his  face, 
But  Nature's  hand,  when  all  deceit  was  banished  out  of  place. 
What  other  certain  signs  seek  I  of  his  good  will  ?  [still. 

These  do  suffice ;  and  steadfast  I  will  love  and  serve  him 
Till  Atropos  shall  cut  my  fatal  thread  of  life,  42  5 

So  that  he  mind  to  make  of  me  his  lawful  wedded  wife. 
For  so  perchance  this  new  alliance  may  procure 
Unto  our  houses  such  a  peace  as  ever  shall  endure.' 

Oh,  how  we  can  persuade  ourself  to  what  we  like,  429 
And  how  we  can  dissuade  our  mind,  if  aught  our  mind  mis- 
Weak  arguments  are  strong,  our  fancies  straight  to  frame  [like  ! 
To  pleasing  things,  and  eke  to  shun  if  we  mislike  the  same. 
The  maid  had  scarcely  yet  ended  the  weary  war,  [star 

Kept  in  her  heart  by  striving  thoughts,  when  every  shining 
Had  paid  his  borrowed  light,  and  Phcebus  spread  in  skies  43  5 
His  golden  rays,  which  seemed  to  say,  now  time  it  is  to  rise. 
And  Romeus  had  by  this  forsaken  his  weary  bed,  [head. 
Where  restless  he  a  thousand  thoughts  had  forged  in  his 
And  while  with  ling'ring  step  by  Juliet's  house  he  passed, 
And  upwards  to  her  windows  high  his  greedy  eyes  did  cast, 
His  love  that  looked  for  him  there  'gan  he  straight  espy.  441 
With  pleasant  cheer  each  greeted  is ;  she  followeth  with  her 
His  parting  steps,  and  he  oft  looketh  back  again,  [eye 

But  not  so  oft  as  he  desires ;  warely  he  doth  refrain. 
What  life  were  like  to  love,  if  dread  of  jeopardy  445 

Y-soured  not  the  sweet,  if  love  were  free  from  jealousy  ! 
But  she  more  sure  within,  unseen  of  any  wight, 
When  so  he  comes,  looks  after  him  till  he  be  out  of  sight. 


i8  ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 

In  often  passing  so,  his  busy  eyes  he  threw, 
That  every  pane  and  tooting  hole  the  wily  lover  knew.  450 
In  happy  hour  he  doth  a  garden  plot  espy,  [descry ; 

From  which,  except  he  warely  walk,  men  may  his  love 
For  lo,  it  fronted  full  upon  her  leaning  place,  [face. 

Where  she  is  wont  to  show  her  heart  by  cheerful  friendly 
And  lest  the  arbours  might  their  secret  love  bewray,  455 
He  dflthjceep  back  his  forward  foot  from  passing  there  by  day ; 
But  when  on  earth  the  Night  her  mantle  black  hath  spread  ; 
Well  armed  he  walketh  forth  alone,  ne  dreadful  foes  doth  dread. 
Whom  maketh  Love  not  bold,  nay,  whom  makes  he  not  blind  ? 
He  reaveth  danger's  dread  oft-times  out  of  the  lover's  mind. 
By  night  he  passeth  here,  a  week  or  two  in  vain ;  461 

And  for  the  missing  of  his  mark  his  grief  hath  him  nigh 
And  Juliet  that  now  doth  lack  her  heart's  relief,  [slain. 

Her  Romeus'  pleasant  eyne,  I  mean,  is  almost  dead  for  grief. 
Each  day  she  changeth  hours  (for  lovers  keep  an  hour  465 
When  they  are  sure  to  see  their  love  in  passing  by  their 
Impatient  of  her  woe,  she  happed  to  lean  one  night  [bower). 
Within  her  window,  and  anon  the  moon  did  shine  so  bright 
That  she  espied  her  love  :  her  heart  revived  sprang  ;  [wrang. 
And  now  for  joy  she  claps  her  hands,  which  erst  for  woe  she 
Eke  Romeus,  when  he  saw  his  long  desired  sight,  471 

His  mourning  cloak  of  moan  cast  off,  hath  clad  him  with 
Yet  dare  I  say,  of  both  that  she  rejoiced  more  :  [delight. 
His  care  was  great,  hers  twice  as  great  was  all  the  time  before  ; 
For  whilst  she  knew  not  why  he  did  himself  absent,  [lament. 
Aye  doubting  both  his  health  and  life,  his  death  she  did 


ROMEUS  AND  JULIET  19 

For  love  is  fearful  oft  where  is  no  cause  of  fear,  [were. 

And  what  love  fears,  that  love  laments,  as  though  it  chanced 
Of  greater  cause  alway  is  greater  work  y-bred  ;        [be  dead. 
While  he  nought  doubteth  of  her  health,  she  dreads  lest  he 
When  only  absence  is  the  cause  of  Romeus'  smart,          48 1 
By  happy  hope  of  sight  again  he  feeds  his  fainting  heart. 
What  wonder  then  if  he  were  wrapped  in  less  annoy  ? 
What  marvel  if  by  sudden  sight  she  fed  of  greater  joy  ? 
His  smaller  grief  or  joy  no  smaller  love  do  prove  ;  485 

Ne,  for  she  passed  him  in  both,  did  she  him  pass  in  love : 
But  each  of  them  alike  did  burn  in  equal  flame, 
The  well-beloving  knight  and  eke  the  well-beloved  dame. 
Now  whilst  with  bitter  tears  her  eyes  as  fountains  run, 
With  whispering  voice,  y-broke  with  sobs,  thus  is  her  tale 

O  Romeus,  of  your  life  too  lavas  sure  you  are,         [begun  : 
That  in  this  place,  and  at  this  time,  to  hazard  it  you  dare. 
What  if  your  deadly  foes,  my  kinsmen,  saw  you  here?    493 
Like  lions  wild,  your  tender  parts  asunder  would  they  tear. 
In  ruth  and  in  disdain,  I,  weary  of  my  life,      [bloody  knife. 
With  cruel  hand  my  mourning  heart  would  pierce  with 
For  you,  mine  own,  once  dead,  what  joy  should  I  have  here  ? 
And  eke  my  honour  stained,  which  I  than  life  do  hold  more 

'  Fair  lady  mine,  dame  Juliet,  my  life,'  quod  he,      [dear. 
'  Even  from  my  birth  committed  was  to  fatal  sisters  three.   5  oo 
They  may  in  spite  of  foes  draw  forth  my  lively  thread ; 
And  they  also,  whoso  saith  nay,  asunder  may  it  shred. 
But  who  to  reave  my  life,  his  rage  and  force  would  bend, 
Perhaps  should  try  unto  his  pain  how  I  it  could  defend. 


20  ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 

Ne  yet  I  love  it  so,  but  always  for  your  sake,  505 

A  sacrifice  to  death  I  would  my  wounded  corpse  betake. 
If  my  mishap  were  such,  that  here  before  your  sight, 
I  should  restore  again  to  death,  of  life,  my  borrowed  light, 
This  one  thing  and  no  more  my  parting  sprite  would  rue, 
That  part  he  should  before  that  you  by  certain  trial  knew 
The  love  I  owe  to  you,  the  thrall  I  languish  in,  511 

And  how  I  dread  to  lose  the  gain  which  I  do  hope  to  win  ; 
And  how  I  wish  for  life,  not  for  my  proper  ease, 
But  that  in  it  you  might  I  love,  you  honour,  serve  and  please, 
Till  deadly  pangs  the  sprite  out  of  the  corpse  shall  send:'  5  1 5 
And  thereupon  he  sware  an  oath,  and  so  his  tale  had  end. 

Now  love  and  pity  boil  in  Juliet's  ruthful  breast ; 
In  window  on  her  leaning  arm  her  weary  head  doth  rest ; 
Her  bosom  bathed  in  tears,  to  witness  inward  pain, 
With  dreary  cheer  to  Romeus  thus  answered  she  again  :   520 

'  Ah,  my  dear  Romeus,  keep  in  these  words,'  quod  she, 
'  For  lo,  the  thought  of  such  mischance  already  maketh  me 
For  pity  and  for  dread  well-nigh  to  yield  up  breath ; 
In  even  balance  peised  are  my  life  and  eke  my  death. 
For  so  my  heart  is  knit,  yea,  made  one  self  with  yours,  525 
That  sure  there  is  no  grief  so  small,  by  which  your  mind 
But  as  you  suffer  pain,  so  I  do  bear  in  part,  [endures, 

Although  it  lessens  not  your  grief,  the  half  of  all  your  smart. 
But  these  things  overpast,  if  of  your  health  and  mine 
You  have  respect,  or  pity  aught  my  teary,  weeping  eyne, 
In  few  unfained  words  your  hidden  mind  unfold,  531 

That  as  I  see  your  pleasant  face,  your  heart  I  may  behold. 


ROMEUS  AND  JULIET  21 

For  if  you  do  intend  my  honour  to  defile, 
In  error  shall  you  wander  still,  as  you  have  done  this  while ; 
But  if  your  thought  be  chaste,  and  have  on  virtue  ground, 
If  wedlock  be  the  end  and  mark  which  your  desire  hath  found, 
Obedience  set  aside,  unto  my  parents  due,  537 

The  quarrel  eke  that  long  ago  between  our  households  grew, 
Both  me  and  mine  I  will  all  whole  to  you  betake, 
And  following  you  whereso  you  go,  my  father's  house  forsake. 
But  if  by  wanton  love  and  by  unlawful  suit  541 

You  think  in  ripest  years  to  pluck  my  maidenhood's  dainty 
You  are  beguiled  ;  and  now  your  Juliet  you  beseeks  [fruit, 
To  cease  your  suit,  and  suffer  her  to  live  among  her  likes.' 

Then  Romeus,  whose  thought  was  free  from  foul  desire, 
And  to  the  top  of  virtue's  height  did  worthily  aspire,      546 
Was  filled  with  greater  joy  than  can  my  pen  express,  [guess. 
Or,  till  they  have  enjoyed  the  like,  the  hearer's  heart  can 
And  then  with  joined  hands,  heaved  up  into  the  skies, 
He  thanks  the  Gods,  and  from  the  heavens  for  vengeance  down 
If  he  have  other  thought  but  as  his  lady  spake;       [he  cries, 
And  then  his  look  he  turned  to  her,  and  thus  did  answer 

'  Since,  lady,  that  you  like  to  honour  me  so  much    [make  : 
As  to  accept  me  for  your  spouse,  I  yield  myself  for  such. 
In  true  witness  whereof,  because  I  must  depart,  555 

Till  that  my  deed  do  prove  my  word,  I  leave  in  pawn  my 
To-morrow  eke  betimes  before  the  sun  arise,  [heart. 

To  Friar  Laurence  will  I  wend,  to  learn  his  sage  advice. 
He  is  my  ghostly  sire,  and  oft  he  hath  me  taught     [sought. 
What  I  should  do  in  things  of  weight,  when  I  his  aid  have 


22  ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 

And  at  this  self-same  hour,  I  plight  you  here  my  faith,    561 
I  will  be  here,  if  you  think  good,  to  tell  you  what  he  saith.' 
She  was  contented  well ;  else  favour  found  he  none 
That  night  at  lady  Juliet's  hand,  save  pleasant  words  alone. 
This  barefoot  friar  girt  with  cord  his  grayish  weed,     565 
For  he  of  Francis'  order  was,  a  friar,  as  I  rede. 
Not  as  the  most  was  he,  a  gross  unlearned  fool, 
But  doctor  of  divinity  proceeded  he  in  school. 
The  secrets  eke  he  knew  in  Nature's  works  that  lurk  ;    [work. 
By  magic's  art  most  men  supposed  that  he  could  wonders 
Ne  doth  it  ill  beseem  divines  those  skills  to  know,  57 1 

If  on  no  harmful  deed  they  do  such  skilfulness  bestow ; 
For  justly  of  no  art  can  men  condemn  the  use, 
But  right  and  reason's  lore  cry  out  against  the  lewd  abuse. 
The  bounty  of  the  friar  and  wisdom  hath  so  won          [run, 
The  townsfolks'  hearts,  that  well  nigh  all  to  Friar  Laurence 
To  shrive  themself ;  the  old,  the  young,  the  great  and  small ; 
Of  all  he  is  beloved  well,  and  honoured  much  of  all.       578 
And,  for  he  did  the  rest  in  wisdom  far  exceed,  [need. 

The  prince  by  him,  his  counsel  craved,  was  holp  at  time  of 
Betwixt  the  Capulets  and  him  great  friendship  grew,       581 
A  secret  and  assured  friend  unto  the  Montague. 
Loved  of  this  young  man  more  than  any  other  guest, 
The  friar  eke  of  Verone  youth  aye  lik£d  Romeus  best ; 
For  whom  he  ever  hath  in  time  of  his  distress,  585 

As  erst  you  heard,  by  skilful  lore  found  out  his  harm's  re- 
To  him  is  Romeus  gone,  ne  stay'th  he  till  the  morrow  ;  [dress. 
To  him  he  painteth  all  his  case,  his  passed  joy  and  sorrow. 
. 


ROMEUS  AND  JULIET  23 

How  he  hath  her  espied  with  other  dames  in  dance, 
And  how  that  first  to  talk  with  her  himself  he  did  advance ; 
Their  talk  and  change  of  looks  he  'gan  to  him  declare,   591 
And  how  so  fast  by  faith  and  troth  they  both  y-coupled  are, 
That  neither  hope  of  life,  nor  dread  of  cruel  death,  [breath. 
Shall  make  him  false  his  faith  to  her,  while  life  shall  lend  him 
And  then  with  weeping  eyes  he  prays  his  ghostly  sire      595 
To  further  and  accomplish  all  their  honest  hearts'  desire. 
A  thousand  doubts  and  mo  in  th'  old  man's  head  arose, 
A  thousand  dangers  like  to  come  the  old  man  doth  disclose, 
And  from  the  spousal  rites  he  redeth  him  refrain, 
Perhaps  he  shall  be  bet  advised  within  a  week  or  twain. 
Advice  is  banished  quite  from  those  that  follow  love,       60 1 
Except  advice  to  what  they  like  their  bending  mind  do  move. 
As  well  the  father  might  have  counselled  him  to  stay    [way, 
That  from  a  mountain's  top  thrown  down  is  falling  half  the 
As  warn  his  friend  to  stop  amid  his  race  begun,  605 

Whom  Cupid  with  his  smarting  whip  enforceth  forth  to  run. 
Part  won  by  earnest  suit,  the  friar  doth  grant  at  last ; 
And  part,  because  he  thinks  the  storms,  so  lately  overpast, 
Of  both  the  households'  wrath,  this  marriage  might  appease  ; 
So  that  they  should  not  rage  again,  but  quite  for  ever  cease. 
The  respite  of  a  day  he  asketh  to  devise  61 1 

What  way  were  best,  unknown,  to  end  so  great  an  enterprise. 
The  wounded  man  that  now  doth  deadly  pains  endure, 
Scarce  patient  tarrieth  whilst  his  leech  doth  make  the  salve 
So  Romeus  hardly  grants  a  short  day  and  a  night,  [to  cure  : 
Yet  needs  he  must,  else  must  he  want  his  only  heart's  delight. 


24  ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 

You  see  that  Romeus  no  time  or  pain  doth  spare;       617 
Think  that  the  whilst  fair  Juliet  is  not  devoid  of  care. 
Young  Romeus  poureth  forth  his  hap  and  his  mishap 
Into  the  friar's  breast ;  but  where  shall  Juliet  unwrap     620 
The  secrets  of  her  heart  ?     To  whom  shall  she  unfold 
Her  hidden  burning  love,  and  eke  her  thought  and  cares  so 
The  nurse  of  whom  I  spake,  within  her  chamber  lay,  [cold  ? 
Upon  the  maid  she  waiteth  still ;  to  her  she  doth  bewray 
Her  new  received  wound,  and  then  her  aid  doth  crave,  625 
In  her,  she  saith,  it  lies  to  spill,  in  her,  her  life  to  save. 
Not  easily  she  made  the  froward  nurse  to  bow,  [vow 

But  won  at  length  with  promised  hire,  she  made  a  solemn 
To  do  what  she  commands,  as  handmaid  of  her  hest ; 
Her  mistress*  secrets  hide  she  will  within  her  covert  breast. 

To  Romeus  she  goes ;  of  him  she  doth  desire  631 

To  know  the  mean  of  marriage,  by  counsel  of  the  friar. 
'  On  Saturday,'  quod  he,  '  if  Juliet  come  to  shrift,      [drift  ? ' 
She  shall  be  shrived  and  married ;  how  like  you,  nurse,  this 
'  Now  by  my  truth,'  quod  she,  '  God's  blessing  have  your  heart, 
For  yet  in  all  my  life  I  have  not  heard  of  such  a  part.    636 
Lord,  how  you  young  men  can  such  crafty  wiles  devise, 
If  that  you  love  the  daughter  well,  to  blear  the  mother's  eyes. 
An  easy  thing  it  is  with  cloak  of  holiness 
To  mock  the  seely  mother,  that  suspecteth  nothing  less.  640 
But  that  it  pleased  you  to  tell  me  of  the  case, 
For  all  my  many  years,  perhaps,  1  should  have  found  it  scarce. 
Now  for  the  rest  let  me  and  Juliet  alone ; 
To  get  her  leave,  some  feat  excuse  I  will  devise  anon  ; 


ROMEUS  AND  JULIET  25 

For  that  her  golden  locks  by  sloth  have  been  unkempt,  645 
Or  for  unwares  some  wanton  dream  the  youthful  damsel 
Or  for  in  thoughts  of  love  her  idle  time  she  spent,  [drempt, 
Or  otherwise  within  her  heart  deserved  to  be  shent. 
I  know  her  mother  will  in  no  case  say  her  nay ; 
I  warrant  you,  she  shall  not  fail  to  come  on  Saturday.'   650 
And  then  she  swears  to  him,  the  mother  loves  her  well ; 
And  how  she  gave  her  suck  in  youth,  she  leaveth  not  to  tell. 
'  A  pretty  babe,'  quod  she,  '  it  was  when  it  was  young ; 
Lord,  how  it  could  full  prettily  have  prated  with  it  tongue  ! 
A  thousand  times  and  more  I  laid  her  on  my  lap,  655 

And  clapped  her  on  the  buttock  soft,  and  kissed  where  I  did 
And  gladder  then  was  I  of  such  a  kiss,  forsooth,  [clap. 

Than  I  had  been  to  have  a  kiss  of  some  old  lecher's  mouth.' 
And  thus  of  Juliet's  youth  began  this  prating  nurse, 
And  of  her  present  state  to  make  a  tedious,  long  discourse. 
For  though  he  pleasure  took  in  hearing  of  his  love,         66 1 
The  message'  answer  seemed  him  to  be  of  more  behove. 
But  when  these  beldames  sit  at  ease  upon  their  tail, 
The  day  and  eke  the  candle-light  before  their  talk  shall  fail. 
And  part  they  say  is  true,  and  part  they  do  devise,          665 
Yet  boldly  do  they  chat  of  both,  when  no  man  checks  their 
Then  he  six  crowns  of  gold  out  of  his  pocket  drew,       [lies. 
And  gave  them  her ;  'A  slight  reward,'  quod  he,  *  and  so,  adieu.' 
In  seven  years  twice  told  she  had  not  bowed  so  low  [bestow 
Her  crooked  knees,  as  now  they  bow ;  she  swears  she  will 
Her  crafty  wit,  her  time,  and  all  her  busy  pain,  671 

To  help  him  to  his  hoped  bliss ;  and,  cow'ring  down  again, 


26  ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 

She  takes  her  leave,  and  home  she  hies  with  speedy  pace ; 
The  chamber  door  she  shuts,  and  then  she  saith  with  smiling 
'  Good  news  for  thee,  my  girl,  good  tidings  I  thee  bring,  [face  : 
Leave  off  thy  wonted  song  of  care,  and  now  of  pleasure  sing. 
For  thou  may'st  hold  thyself  the  happiest  under  sun,  677 
That  in  so  little  while,  so  well,  so  worthy  a  knight  hast  won. 
The  best  y-shaped  is  he,  and  hath  the  fairest  face  [grace : 
Of  all  this  town,  and  there  is  none  hath  half  so  good  a 
So  gentle  of  his  speech,  and  of  his  counsel  wise  : '  68 1 

And  still  with  many  praises  more  she  heaved  him  to  the  skies. 
'  Tell  me  else  what/  quod  she,  '  this  evermore  I  thought ; 
But  of  our  marriage,say  at  once,what  answer  have  you  brought? ' 
'Nay,  soft/  quoth  she, '  I  fear  your  hurt  by  sudden  joy.'    685 
'  I  list  not  play/  quod  Juliet,  '  although  thou  list  to  toy.' 
How  glad,  trow  you,  was  she,  when  she  had  heard  her  say, 
No  farther  off  than  Saturday  deferred  was  the  day ! 
Again  the  ancient  nurse  doth  speak  of  Romeus,  [thus/ 

'  And  then/  said  she,  *  he  spake  to  me,  and  then  I  spake  him 
Nothing  was  done  or  said  that  she  hath  left  untold,        691 
Save  only  one,  that  she  forgot,  the  taking  of  the  gold. 
'  There  is  no  loss/  quod  she,  *  sweet  wench,  to  loss  of  time, 
Ne  in  thine  age  shalt  thou  repent  so  much  of  any  crime. 
For  when  I  call  to  mind  my  former  passed  youth,  695 

One  thing  there  is  which  most  of  all  doth  cause  my  endless 
At  sixteen  years  I  first  did  choose  my  loving  fere,         [ruth. 
And  I  was  fully  ripe  before,  I  dare  well  say,  a  year. 
The  pleasure  that  I  lost,  that  year  so  overpast,  [last. 

A  thousand  times  I  have  bewept,  and  shall  while  life  doth 


ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 


In  faith  it  were  a  shame, — yea,  sin  it  were,  y-wis,  701 

When  thou  may'st  live  in  happy  joy,  to  set  light  by  thy  bliss/ 
She  that  this  morning  could  her  mistress'  mind  dissuade, 
Is  now  become  an  oratress,  her  lady  to  persuade. 
If  any  man  be  here  whom  love  hath  clad  with  care,        705 
To  him  I  speak  ;  if  thou  wilt  speed,  thy  purse  thou  must  not 
Two  sorts  of  men  there  are,  seld  welcome  in  at  door,  [spare, 
The  wealthy  sparing  niggard,  and  the  suitor  that  is  poor. 
For  glitt'ring  gold  is  wont  by  kind  to  move  the  heart ; 
And  oftentimes  a  slight  reward  doth  cause  a  more  desart. 
Y-written  have  I  read,  I  wot  not  in  what  book,  711 

There  is  no  better  way  to  fish  than  with  a  golden  hook. 
Of  Romeus  these  two  do  sit  and  chat  awhile,  [beguile. 

And  to  themself  they  laugh  how  they  the   mother  shall 
A  feat  excuse  they  find,  but  sure  I  know  it  not,  715 

And  leave  for  her  to  go  to  shrift  on  Saturday  she  got. 
So  well  this  Juliet,  this  wily  wench  did  know 
Her  mother's  angry  hours,  and  eke  the  true  bent  of  her  bow. 
The  Saturday  betimes,  in  sober  weed  y-clad,  [sad. 

She  took  her  leave,  and  forth  she  went  with  visage  grave  and 
With  her  the  nurse  is  sent,  as  bridle  of  her  lust,  721 

With  her  the  mother  sends  a  maid  almost  of  equal  trust. 
Betwixt  her  teeth  the  bit  the  jennet  now  hath  caught, 
So  warely  eke  the  virgin  walks,  her  maid  perceiveth  nought. 
She  gazeth  not  in  church  on  young  men  of  the  town,     725 
Ne  wand'reth  she  from  place  to  place,  but  straight  she  kneeleth 
Upon  an  altar's  step,  where  she  devoutly  prays,  [down 

And  there  upon  her  tender  knees  the  weary  lady  stays ; 


28  ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 

Whilst  she  doth  send  her  maid  the  certain  truth  to  know, 
If  Friar  Laurence  leisure  had  to  hear  her  shrift,  or  no.    730 
Out  of  his  shriving  place  he  comes  with  pleasant  cheer ;    [near. 
The  shamefast  maid  with  bashful  brow  to  himward  draweth 
'  Some  great  offence,'  quoth  he,  '  you  have  committed  late, 
Perhaps  you  have  displeased  your  friend  by  giving  him  a 
Then  turning  to  the  nurse  and  to  the  other  maid,      [mate.' 
*  Go,  hear  a  mass  or  two,'  quod  he,  *  which  straightway  shall 
For,  her  confession  heard,  I  will  unto  you  twain      [be  said. 
The  charge  that  I  received  of  you  restore  to  you  again.' 
What,  was  not  Juliet,  trow  you,  right  well  apaid  ?  739 

That  for  this  trusty  friar  hath  changed  her  young  mistrusting 
I  dare  well  say,  there  is  in  all  Verona  none,  [maid  ? 

But  Romeus,  with  whom  she  would  so  gladly  be  alone. 
Thus  to  the  friar's  cell  they  both  forth  walked  bin  ; 
He  shuts  the  door  as  soon  as  he  and  Juliet  were  in. 
Dut  Romeus,  her  friend,  was  entered  in  before,  745 

And  there  had  waited  for  his  love,  two  hours  large  and  more. 
Each  minute  seemed  an  hour,  and  every  hour  a  day, 
'Twixt  hope  he  lived  and  despair  of  coming  or  of  stay. 
Now  wavering  hope  and  fear  are  quite  fled  out  of  sight, 
For  what  he  hoped  he  hath  at  hand,  his  pleasant,  chief  delight. 
And  joyful  Juliet  is  healed  of  all  her  smart,  75 1 

For  now  the  rest  of  all  her  parts  have  found  her  straying  heart. 
Both  their  confessions  first  the  friar  hath  heard  them  make. 
And  then  to  her  with  louder  voice  thus  Friar  Laurence  spake  : 
'Fair  lady  Juliet,  my  ghostly  daughter  dear,  755 

As  far  as  I  of  Romeus  learn,  who  by  you  standeth  here, 


ROMEUS  AND  JULIET  29 

'Twixt  you  it  is  agreed,  that  you  shall  be  his  wife, 
And  he  your  spouse  in  steady  truth,  till  death  shall  end  your 
Are  you  both  fully  bent  to  keep  this  great  behest  ? '        [life. 
And  both  the  lovers  said,  it  was  their  only  heart's  request. 
When  he  did  see  their  minds  in  links  of  love  so  fast,       761 
When  in  the  praise  of  wedlock's  state  some  skilful  talk  was 
When  he  had  told  at  length  the  wife  what  was  her  due,  [past, 
His  duty  eke  by  ghostly  talk  the  youthful  husband  knew  ; 
How  that  the  wife  in  love  must  honour  and  obey,  765 

What  love  and  honour  he  doth  owe,  and  debt  that  he  must 
The  words  pronounced  were  which  holy  church  of  old  [pay. 
Appointed  hath  for  marriage,  and  she  a  ring  of  gold 
Received  of  Romeus ;  and  then  they  both  arose,  [disclose, 
To  whom  the  friar  then  said :  *  Perchance  apart  you  will 
Betwixt  yourself  alone,  the  bottom  of  your  heart;  771 

Say  on  at  once,  for  time  it  is  that  hence  you  should  depart.' 
Then  Romeus  said  to  her,  both  loth  to  part  so  soon, 
*  Fair  lady,  send  to  me  again  your  nurse  this  afternoon. 
Of  cord  I  will  bespeak  a  ladder  by  that  time  ;  775 

By  which,  this  night,  while  others  sleep,  I  will  your  window 
Then  will  we  talk  of  love  and  of  our  old  despairs,  [climb. 
And  then,  with  longer  leisure  had,  dispose  our  great  affairs.' 
These  said,  they  kiss,  and  then  part  to  their  fathers'  house, 
The  joyful  bride  unto  her  home,  to  his  eke  go'th  the  spouse  : 
Contented  both,  and  yet  both  uncontented  still,  781 

Till  Night  and  Venus'  child  give  leave  the  wedding  to  fulfil. 
The  painful  soldier,  sore  y-beat  with  weary  war,  [far> 

The  merchant  eke  that  needful  things  doth  dread  to  fetch  from 


30  ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 

The  ploughman  that  for  doubt  of  fierce  invading  foes,    785 
Rather  to  sit  in  idle  ease  than  sow  his  tilt  hath  chose, 
Rejoice  to  hear  proclaimed  the  tidings  of  the  peace ;   [cease, 
Not  pleasured  with  the  sound  so  much  ;  but,  when  the  wars  do 
Then  ceased  are  the  harms  which  cruel  war  brings  forth : 
The  merchant  then  may  boldly  fetch  his  wares  of  precious 
Dreadless  the  husbandman  doth  till  his  fertile  field,  [worth  ; 
For  wealth,  her  mate,  not  for  herself,  is  peace  so  precious 
So  lovers  live  in  care,  in  dread,  and  in  unrest,  [held : 

And  deadly  war  by  striving  thoughts  they  keep  within  their 
But  wedlock  is  the  peace  whereby  is  freedom  won  [breast : 
To  do  a  thousand  pleasant  things  that  should  not  else  be  done. 
The  news  of  ended  war  these  two  have  heard  with  joy,  797 
But  now  they  long  the  fruit  of  peace  with  pleasure  to  enjoy. 
In  stormy  wind  and  wave,  in  danger  to  be  lost, 
Thy  steerless  ship,  O  Romeus,  hath  been  long  while  betossed  ; 
The  seas  are  now  appeased,  and  thou,  by  happy  star,  80 1 
Art  come  in  sight  of  quiet  haven  ;  and,  now  the  wrackful 
Is  hid  with  swelling  tide,  boldly  thou  may'st  resort  [bar 
Unto  thy  wedded  lady's  bed,  thy  long  desired  port. 
God  grant,  no  folly's  mist  so  dim  thy  inward  sight,  805 
That  thou  do  miss  the  channel  that  doth  lead  to  thy  delight. 
God  grant,  no  danger's  rock,  y-lurking  in  the  dark, 
Before  thou  win  the  happy  port,  wrack  thy  sea-beaten  bark. 
A  servant  Romeus  had,  of  word  and  deed  so  just,  [trust. 
That  with  his  life,  if  need  required,  his  master  would  him 
His  faithfulness  had  oft  our  Romeus  proved  of  old  ;  8 1 1 
And  therefore  all  that  yet  was  done  unto  his  man  he  told, 


ROMEUS  AND  JULIET  31 

Who  straight,  as  he  was  charged,  a  corden  ladder  looks, 
To  which  he  hath  made  fast  two  strong  and  crooked  iron 
The  bride  to  send  the  nurse  at  twilight  faileth  not,    [hooks. 
To  whom  the  bridegroom  given  hath  the  ladder  that  he  got. 
And  then  to  watch  for  him  appointeth  her  an  hour ; 
For  whether  Fortune  smile  on  him,  or  if  she  list  to  lower, 
He  will  not  miss  to  come  to  his  appointed  place,  819 

Where  wont  he  was  to  take  by  stealth  the  view  of  Juliet's  face. 
How  long  these  lovers  thought  the  lasting  of  the  day, 
Let  other  judge  that  wonted  are  like  passions  to  assay : 
For  my  part,  I  do  guess  each  hour  seems  twenty  year : 
So  that  I  deem,  if  they  might  have,  as  of  Alcume  we  hear, 
The  sun  bound  to  their  will,  if  they  the  heavens  might  guide, 
Black  shade  of  night  and  doubled  dark  should  straight  all  over 
Th'  appointed  hour  is  come  ;  he,  clad  in  rich  array,  [hide. 
Walks  toward  his  desired  home  :  good  fortune  guide  his  way. 
Approaching  near  the  place  from  whence  his  heart  had  life, 
So  light  he  wox,  he  leapt  the  wall,  and  there  he  spied  his  wife, 
Who  in  the  window  watched  the  coming  of  her  lord  ;    83  I 
Where  she  so  surely  had  made  fast  the  ladder  made  of  cord, 
That  dangerless  her  spouse  the  chamber  window  climbs, 
Where  he  ere  then  had  wished  himself  above  ten  thousand 
The  windows  close  are  shut ;  else  look  they  for  no  guest ;  [times. 
To  light  the  waxen  quariers,  the  ancient  nurse  is  pressed, 
Which  Juliet  had  before  prepared  to  be  light,  837 

That  she  at  pleasure  might  behold  her  husband's  beauty 
A  kerchief  white  as  snow  ware  Juliet  on  her  head,  [bright. 
Such  as  she  wonted  was  to  wear,  attire  meet  for  the  bed. 


32  ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 

As  soon  as  she  him  spied,  about  his  neck  she  clung,  841 
And  by  her  long  and  slender  arms  a  great  while  there  she 
A  thousand  times  she  kissed,  and  him  unkissed  again,  [hung. 
Ne  could  she  speak  a  word  to  him,  though  would  she  ne'er 
And  like  betwixt  his  arms  to  faint  his  lady  is ;  [so  fain. 

She  fets  a  sigh  and  clappeth  close  her  closed  mouth  to  his ; 
And  ready  then  to  sownd  she  looked  ruthfully, 
That  lo,  it  made  him  both  at  once  to  live  and  eke  to  die. 
These  piteous  painful  pangs  were  haply  overpast,  849 

And  she  unto  herself  again  returned  home  at  last.  [part, 
Then,  through  her  troubled  breast,  even  from  the  farthest 
An  hollow  sigh,  a  messenger,  she  sendeth  from  her  heart. 

0  Romeu%  quoth  she,  in  whom  all  virtues  shine,         [mine 
Welcome  thou  art  into  this  place,  where  from  these  eyes  of 
Such  teary  streams  did  flow,  that  I  suppose  well-nigh     855 
The  source  of  all  my  bitter  tears  is  altogether  dry. 
Absence  so  pined  my  heart,  which  on  thy  presence  fed, 
And  of  thy  safety  and  thy  health  so  much  I  stood  in  dread. 
But  now  what  is  decreed  by  fatal  destiny, 

1  force  it  not ;  let  Fortune  do,  and  death,  their  worst  to  me. 
Full  recompensed  am  I  for  all  my  passed  harms,  86 1 
In  that  the  Gods  have  granted  me  to  clasp  thee  in  mine  arms. 
The  crystal  tears  began  to  stand  in  Romeus'  eyes, 

When  he  unto  his  lady's  words  Jgan  answer  in  this  wise  : 

'Though  cruel  Fortune  be  so  much  my  deadly  foe,     865 
That  I  ne  can  by  lively  proof  cause  thee,  fair  dame,  to  know 
How  much  I  am  by  love  enthralled  unto  thee, 
Ne  yet  what  mighty  power  thou  hast,  by  thy  desert,  on  me, 


ROMEUS  AND  JULIET  33 

Ne  torments  that  for  thee  I  did  ere  this  endure, 
Yet  of  thus  much,  ne  will  1  feign,  I  may  thee  well  assure  ; 
The  least  of  many  pains  which  of  thy  absence  sprung,    871 
More  painfully  than  death  itself  my  tender  heart  hath  wrung. 
Ere  this,  one  death  had  reft  a  thousand  deaths  away, 
But  life  prolonged  was  by  hope  of  this  desired  day ; 
Which  so  just  tribute  pays  of  all  my  passed  moan,  875 

That  I  as  well  contented  am  as  if  myself  alone 
Did  from  the  Ocean  reign  unto  the  sea  of  Ind. 
Wherefore  now  let  us  wipe  away  old  cares  out  of  our  mind. 
For  as  the  wretched  state  is  now  redressed  at  last, 
So  is  it  skill  behind  our  back  the  curs6d  care  to  cast.       880 
Since  Fortune  of  her  grace  hath  place  and  time  assigned, 
Where  we  with  pleasure  may  content  our  uncontented  mind, 
In  Lethes  hide  we  deep  all  grief  and  all  annoy,  [J07- 

Whilst  we  do  bathe  in  bliss,  and  fill  our  hungry  hearts  with 
And,  for  the  time  to  come,  let  be  our  busy  care  885 

So  wisely  to  direct  our  love,  as  no  wight  else  be  ware ; 
Lest  envious  foes  by  force  despoil  our  new  delight, 
And  us  throw  back  from  happy  state  to  more  unhappy  plight.' 
Fair  Juliet  began  to  answer  what  he  said,  [stayed. 

But  forth  in  haste  the  old  nurse  stepped,  and  so  her  answer 
4  Who  takes  not  time/  quoth  she,  *  when  time  well  offered  is, 
Another  time  shall  seek  for  time,  and  yet  of  time  shall  miss. 
And  when  occasion  serves,  whoso  doth  let  it  slip, 
Is  worthy  sure,  if  I  might  judge,  of  lashes  with  a  whip. 
Wherefore  if  each  of  you  hath  harmed  the  other  so,        895 
And  each  of  you  hath  been  the  cause  of  other's  wailed  woe, 


34  ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 

Lo  here  a  field* — she  showed  a  field-bed  ready  dight — 
'Where  you  may,  if  you  list,  in  arms  revenge  yourself  by  fight.' 
Whereto  these  lovers  both  'gan  easily  assent,  [went, 

And  to  the  place  of  mild  revenge  with  pleasant  cheer  they 
Where  they  were  left  alone— the  nurse  is  gone  to  rest —  901 
How  can  this  be  ?     They  restless  lie,  ne  yet  they  feel  unrest. 
I  grant  that  I  envy  the  bliss  they  live"d  in ; 
Oh  that  I  might  have  found  the  like,  I  wish  it  for  no  sin, 
But  that  I  might  as  well  with  pen  their  joys  depaint,     905 
As  heretofore  I  have  displayed  their  secret  hidden  plaint. 
Of  shivering  care  and  dread  I  have  felt  many  a  fit, 
But  Fortune  such  delight  as  theirs  did  never  grant  me  yet. 
By  proof  no  certain  truth  can  I  unhappy  write, 
But  what  I  guess  by  likelihood,  that  dare  I  to  indite.      910 
The  blindfold  goddess  that  with  frowning  face  doth  fray, 
And  from  their  seat  the  mighty  kings  throws  down  with  head- 
Beginneth  now  to  turn  to  these  her  smiling  face ;    [long  sway, 
Needs  must  they  taste  of  great  delight,  so  much  in  Fortune's 
If  Cupid,  god  of  love,  be  god  of  pleasant  sport,  [grace. 

I  think,  O  Romeus,  Mars  himself  envies  thy  happy  sort. 
Ne  Venus  justly  might,  as  I  suppose,  repent,  917 

If  in  thy  stead,  O  Juliet,  this  pleasant  time  she  spent. 

Thus  pass  they  forth  the  night,  in  sport,  in  jolly  game ; 
The  hastiness  of  Phoebus'  steeds  in  great  despite  they  blame. 
And  now  the  virgin's  fort  hath  warlike  Romeus  got,  921 
In  which  as  yet  no  breach  was  made  by  force  of  cannon  shot, 
*  And  now  in  ease  he  doth  possess  the  hoped  place  :  [embrace. 
How  glad  was  he,  speak  you  that  may  your  lover's  parts 


ROMEUS  AND  JULIET  35 

The  marriage  thus  made  up,  and  both  the  parties  pleased, 
The  nigh  approach  of  day's  return  these  seely  fools  dis-eased. 
And  for  they  might  no  while  in  pleasure  pass  their  time, 
Ne  leisure  had  they  much  to  blame  the  hasty  morning's  crime, 
With  friendly  kiss  in  arms  of  her  his  leave  he  takes,        929 
And  every  other  night,  to  come,  a  solemn  oath  he  makes, 
By  one  self  mean,  and  eke  to  come  at  one  self  hour : 
And  so  he  doth,  till  Fortune  list  to  sauce  his  sweet  with  sour. 
But  who  is  he  that  can  his  present  state  assure  ? 
And  say  unto  himself,  thy  joys  shall  yet  a  day  endure?   934 
So  wavering  Fortune's  wheel,  her  changes  be  so  strange ; 
And  every  wight  y-thralled  is  by  Fate  unto  her  change, 
Who  reigns  so  over  all,  that  each  man  hath  his  part 
(Although  not  aye,  perchance,  alike)  of  pleasure  and  of  smart. 
For  after  many  joys  some  feel  but  little  pain, 
And  from  that  little  grief  they  turn  to  happy  joy  again. 
But  other  some  there  are,  that,  living  long  in  woe,          941 
At  length  they  be  in  quiet  ease,  but  long  abide  not  so ; 
Whose  grief  is  much  increased  by  mirth  that  went  before, 
Because  the  sudden  change  of  things  doth  make  it  seem  the 
Of  this  unlucky  sort  our  Romeus  is  one,  [more. 

For  all  his  hap  turns  to  mishap,  and  all  his  mirth  to  moan. 
And  joyful  Juliet  another  leaf  must  turn  ;  947 

As  wont  she  was,  her  joys  bereft,  she  must  begin  to  mourn. 

The  summer  of  their  bliss  doth  last  a  month  or  twain, 
But  winter's  blast  with  speedy  foot  doth  bring  the  fall  again. 
Whom  glorious  Fortune  erst  had  heaved  to  the  skies,      951 
By  envious  Fortune  overthrown,  on  earth  now  grovelling  lies. 


36  ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 

She  paid  their  former  grief  with  pleasure's  doubled  gain, 
But  now  for  pleasure's  usury,  tenfold  redoubleth  pain. 

The  prince  could  never  cause  those  households  so  agree, 
But  that  some  sparkles  of  their  wrath  as  yet  remaining  be ; 
Which  lie  this  while  raked  up  in  ashes  pale  and  dead,    957 
Till  time  do  serve  that  they  again  in  wasting  flame  may  spread. 
At  holiest  times,  men  say,  most  heinous  crimes  are  done ; 
The  morrow  after  Easter  day  the  mischief  new  begun.   960 
A  band  of  Capulets  did  meet — my  heart  it  rues ! — 
Within  the  walls,  by  Purser's  gate,  a  band  of  Montagues. 
The  Capulets,  as  chief,  a  young  man  have  chose  out, 
Best  exercised  in  feats  of  arms,  and  noblest  of  the  rout, 
Our  Juliet's  uncle's  son,  that  cleped  was  Tybalt ;  965 

He  was  of  body  tall  and  strong,  and  of  his  courage  halt. 
They  need  no  trumpet  sound  to  bid  them  give  the  charge, 
So  loud  he  cried  with  strained  voice  and  mouth  outstretched 
large : 

lNow,  now,'  quod  he,  'my  friends,  ourself  so  let  us  wreak, 
That  of  this  day's  revenge  and  us  our  children's  heirs  may 
speak.  970 

Now  once  for  all  let  us  their  swelling  pride  assuage ; 
Let  none  of  them  escape  alive.7     Then  he,  with  furious  rage, 
And  they  with  him,  gave  charge  upon  their  present  foes, 
And  then  forthwith  a  skirmish  great  upon  this  fray  arose. 
For,  lo,  the  Montagues  thought  shame  away  to  fly,         975 
And  rather  than  to  live  with  shame,  with  praise  did  choose 
The  words  that  Tybalt  used  to  stir  his  folk  to  ire,     [to  die* 
Have  in  the  breasts  of  Montagues  kindled  a  furious  fire. 


ROMEUS  AND  JULIET  37 

With  lions'  hearts  they  fight,  warely  themself  defend  ;    979 
To  wound  his  foe,  his  present  wit  and  force  each  one  doth 
This  furious  fray  is  long  on  each  side  stoutly  fought,   [bend. 
That  whether  part  had  got  the  worst,  full  doubtful  were  the 
The  noise  hereof  anon  throughout  the  town  doth  fly,  [thought. 
And  parts  are  taken  on  every  side ;  both  kindreds  thither  hie. 
Here  one  doth  gasp  for  breath,  his  friend  bestrideth  him ; 
And  he  hath  lost  a  hand,  and  he  another  maimed  limb, 
His  leg  is  cut  whilst  he  strikes  at  another  full,  [cracked  skull. 
And  whom  he  would  have  thrust  quite  through,  hath  cleft  his 
Their  valiant  hearts  forbode  their  foot  to  give  the  ground ; 
With   unappalled  cheer  they  took  full  deep  and  doubtful 
wound.  990 

Thus  foot  by  foot  long  while,  and  shield  to  shield  set  fast, 
One  foe  doth  make  another  faint,  but  makes  him  not  aghast. 
And  whilst  this  noise  is  rife  in  every  townsman's  ear,   [hear. 
Eke,  walking  with  his  friends,  the  noise  doth  woeful  Romeus 
With  speedy  foot  he  runs  unto  the  fray  apace ;  [place. 

With  him,  those  few  that  were  with  him  he  leadeth  to  the 
They  pity  much  to  see  the  slaughter  made  so  great,  [street. 
That  wetshod  they  might  stand  in  blood  on  either  side  the 
;  Part,  friends,'  said  he  ;  '  Part,  friends — help,  friends,  to  part 

the  fray/ 

And  to  the  rest,  '  Enough,'  he  cries,  '  Now  time  it  is  to  stay. 
God's  farther  wrath  you  stir,  beside  the  hurt  you  feel,  I  oo  I 
And  with  this  new  uproar  confound  all  this  our  commonweal.' 
But  they  so  busy  are  in  fight,  so  eager  and  fierce,  [pierce. 
That  through  their  ears  his  sage  advice  no  leisure  had  to 


38  ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 

Then  leapt  he  in  the  throng,  to  part  and  bar  the  blows 
As  well  of  those  that  were  his  friends,  as  of  his  deadly  foes. 
As  soon  as  Tybalt  had  our  Romeus  espied,  [to  side ; 

He  threw  a  thrust  at  him  that  would  have  passed  from  side 
But  Romeus  ever  went,  doubting  his  foes,  well  armed,  [harmed. 
So  that  the  sword,  kept  out  by  mail,  hath  nothing  Romeus 
'Thou  dost  me  wrong,'  quoth  he,  lfor  I  but  part  the  fray ; 
Not  dread,  but  other  weighty  cause  my  hasty  hand  doth  stay. 
Thou  art  the  chief  of  thine,  the  noblest  eke  thou  art,  1013 
Wherefore  leave  off  thy  malice  now,  and  help  these  folk  to 
Many  are  hurt,  some  slain,  and  some  are  like  to  die.'  [part. 
'  No,  coward,  traitor  boy,'  quoth  he, ( straightway  I  mind  to 
Whether  thy  sugared  talk,  and  tongue  so  smoothly  filed,  [try, 
Against  the  force  of  this  my  sword  shall  serve  thee  for  a  shield. 
And  then  at  Romeus'  head  a  blow  he  strake  so  hard,  1019 
That  might  have  clove  him  to  the  brain  but  for  his  cunning 
It  was  but  lent  to  him  that  could  repay  again,  [ward. 

And  give  him  death  for  interest,  a  well  forborne  gain. 
Right  as  a  forest  boar,  that  lodged  in  the  thick, 
Pinched  with  dog,  or  else  with  spear  y-pricked  to  the  quick, 
His  bristles  stiff  upright  upon  his  back  doth  set,  1025 

And  in  his  foamy  mouth  his  sharp  and  crooked  tusks  doth 
Or  as  a  lion  wild  that  rampeth  in  his  rage,  [whet ; 

His  whelps  bereft,  whose  fury  can  no  weaker  beast  assuage ; 
Such  seemed  Romeus  in  every  other's  sight,  [fight. 

When  he  him  shope,  of  wrong  received  t'  avenge  himself  by 
Even  as  two  thunderbolts  thrown  down  out  of  the  sky,  [fly ; 
That  through  the  air,  the  massy  earth,  and  seas,  have  power  to 


ROMEUS  AND  JULIET  39 

So  met  these  two,  and  while  they  change  a  blow  or  twain, 
Our  Romeus  thrust  him  through  the  throat,  and  so  is  Tybalt 
Lo,  here  the  end  of  those  that  stir  a  deadly  strife  :       [slain. 
Who  thirsteth  after  other's  death,  himself  hath  lost  his  life. 
The  Capulets  are  quailed  by  Tybalt's  overthrow,  1037 

The  courage  of  the  Montagues  by  Romeus7  sight  doth  grow. 
The  townsmen  waxen  strong,  the  Prince  doth  send  his  force  ; 
The  fray  hath  end.  The  Capulets  do  bring  the  breathless 
Before  the  Prince,  and  crave  that  cruel  deadly  pain  [corse 
May  be  the  guerdon  of  his  fault,  that  hath  their  kinsman  slain. 
The  Montagues  do  plead  their  Romeus  void  of  fault ;  1043 
The  lookers-on  do  say,  the  fight  begun  was  by  Tybalt. 
The  Prince  doth  pause,  and  then  gives  sentence  in  a  while, 
That  Romeus  for  slaying  him  should  go  into  exile. 
His  foes  would  have  him  hanged,  or  sterve  in  prison  strong  ; 
His  friendship  think,  but  dare  not  say,  that  Romeus  hath 

wrong.  I 048 

Both  households  straight  are  charged  on  pain  of  losing  life, 
Their  bloody  weapons  laid  aside,  to  cease  the  stirred  strife. 
This  common  plague  is  spread  through  all  the  town  anon, 
From  side  to  side  the  town  is  filled  with  murmur  and  with 
For  Tybalt's  hasty  death  bewailed  was  of  some,          [moan, 
Both  for  his  skill  in  feats  of  arms,  and  for,  in  time  to  come 
He  should,  had  this  not  chanced,  been  rich  and  of  great  power, 
To  help  his  friends,  and  serve  the  state  ;  which  hope  within 

an  hour  1056 

Was  wasted  quite,  and  he,  thus  yielding  up  his  breath,  [death. 
More  than  he  holp  the  town  in  life,  hath  harmed  it  by  his 


40  ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 

And  other  some  bewail,  but  ladies  most  of  all, 
The  luckless  lot  by  Fortune's  guilt  that  is  so  late  befall, 
Without  his  fault,  unto  the  seely  Romeus;  1061 

For  whilst  that  he  from  native  land  shall  live  exildd  thus, 
From  heavenly  beauty's  light  and  his  well-shap£d  parts, 
The  sight  of  which  was  wont,  fair  dames,  to  glad  your  youth- 
Shall  you  be  banished  quite,  and  till  he  do  return,  [ful  hearts, 
What  hope  have  you  to  joy,  what  hope  to  cease  to  mourn  ? 
This  Romeus  was  born  so  much  in  heaven's  grace,        1067 
Of  Fortune  and  of  Nature  so  beloved,  that  in  his  face, 
Beside  the  heavenly  beauty  glist'ring  aye  so  bright, 
And  seemly  grace  that  wonted  so  to  glad  the  seer's  sight, 
A  certain  charm  was  graved  by  Nature's  secret  art,        1071 
That  virtue  had  to  draw  to  it  the  love  of  many  a  heart. 
So  every  one  doth  wish  to  bear  a  part  of  pain, 
That  he  released  of  exile  might  straight  return  again. 
But  how  doth  mourn  among  the  mourners  Juliet !  [she  fet ! 
How  doth  she  bathe  her  breast  in  tears !  What  deep  sighs  doth 
How  doth  she  tear  her  hair  !     Her  weed  how  doth  she  rent ! 
How  fares  the  lover  hearing  of  her  lover's  banishment !    1078 
How  wails  she  Tybalt's  death,  whom  she  had  loved  so  well ! 
Her  hearty  grief  and  piteous  plaint,  cunning  I  want  to  tell. 
For  delving  deeply  now  in  depth  of  deep  despair,          1081 
With  wretched  sorrow's  cruel  sound  she  fills  the  empty  air ; 
And  to  the  lowest  hell  down  falls  her  heavy  cry, 
And  up  unto  the  heaven's  height  her  piteous  plaint  doth  fly. 
The  waters  and  the  woods  of  sighs  and  sobs  resound, 
And  from  the  hard  resounding  rocks  her  sorrows  do  rebound. 


ROMEUS  AND  JULIET  41 

Eke  from  her  teary  eyne  down  rained  many  a  shower, 
That  in  the  garden  where  she  walked  might  water  herb  and 
But  when  at  length  she  saw  herself  outraged  so,        [flower. 
Unto  her  chamber  straight  she  hied  ;  there,  overcharged  with 
Upon  her  stately  bed  her  painful  parts  she  threw,         [woe, 
And  in  so  wondrous  wise  began  her  sorrows  to  renew,     1092 
That  sure  no  heart  so  hard,  but  it  of  flint  had  bin, 
But  would  have  rued  the  piteous  plaint  that  she  did  languish 
Then  rapt  out  of  herself,  whilst  she  on  every  side  [in. 

Did  cast  her  restless  eye,  at  length  the  window  she  espied, 
Through  which  she  had  with  joy  seen  Romeus  many  a  time, 
Which  oft  the  vent'rous  knight  was  wont  for  Juliet's  sake  to 
She  cried,  'O  cursed  window,  accursed  be  every  pane,  [climb. 
Through  which,  alas,  too  soon  I  raught  the  cause  of  life  and 
If  by  thy  mean  I  have  some  slight  delight  received,  [bane  ; 
Or  else  such  fading  pleasure  as  by  Fortune  straight  was  reaved, 
Hast  thou  not  made  me  pay  a  tribute  rigorous  1 103 

Of  heaped  grief  and  lasting  care,  and  sorrows  dolorous, 
That  these  my  tender  parts,  which  needful  strength  do  lack 
To  bear  so  great  unwieldy  load  upon  so  weak  a  back, 
Oppressed  with  weight  of  cares  and  with  these  sorrows  rife, 
At  length  must  open  wide  to  death  the  gates  of  loathdd  life  ; 
That  so  my  weary  sprite  may  somewhere  else  unload    1 109 
His  deadly  load,  and  free  from  thrall  may  seek  elsewhere 
For  pleasant,  quiet  ease  and  for  assured  rest,  [abode 

Which  I  as  yet  could  never  find  but  for  my  more  unrest  ? 
O  Romeus,  when  first  we  both  acquainted  were, 
When  to  thy  painted  promises  I  lent  my  iist'ning  ear, 


42  ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 

Which  to  the  brinks  you  filled  with  many  a  solemn  oath, 
And  I  them  judged  empty  of  guile,  and  fraughted  full  of 
I  thought  you  rather  would  continue  our  good  will,  [troth, 
And  seek  t'  appease  our  fathers'  strife,  which  daily  groweth 
I  little  weened  you  would  have  sought  occasion  how    [still. 
By  such  an  heinous  act  to  break  the  peace  and  eke  your  vow  ; 
Whereby  your  bright  renown  all  whole  y-clipsed  is,      1121 
And  I  unhappy,  husbandless,  of  comfort  robbed  and  bliss. 
But  if  you  did  so  much  the  blood  of  Capels  thirst, 
Why   have   you    often   spared   mine  ? — mine   might   have 

quenched  it  first. 

Since  that  so  many  times  and  in  so  secret  place,  1125 

Where  you  were  wont  with  veil  of  love  to  hide  your  hatred's 
My  doubtful  life  hath  happed  by  fatal  doom  to  stand    [face, 
In  mercy  of  your  cruel  heart,  and  of  your  bloody  hand. 
What  ? — seemed  the  conquest  which  you  got  of  me  so  small  ? 
What  ? — seemed  it  not  enough  that  I,  poor  wretch,  was 

made  your  thrall  ?  1130 

But  that  you  must  increase  it  with  that  kinsman's  blood, 
Which  for  his  worth  and  love  to  me,  most  in  my  favour  stood  ? 
Well,  go  henceforth  elsewhere,  and  seek  another  while 
Some  other  as  unhappy  as  I,  by  flattery  to  beguile.        1 134 
And,  where  I  come,  see  that  you  shun  to  show  your  face, 
For  your  excuse  within  my  heart  shall  find  no  resting  place. 
And  I  that  now,  too  late,  my  former  fault  repent, 
Will  so  the  rest  of  weary  life  with  many  tears  lament, 
That  soon  my  joiceless  corpse  shall  yield  up  banished  breath, 
And  where  on  earth  it  restless  lived,  in  earth  seek  rest  by  death.' 


ROMEUS  AND  JULIET  43 

These  said,  her  tender  heart,  by  pain  oppressed  sore,  1141 
Restrained  her  tears,  and  forced  her  tongue  to  keep  her  talk 
And  then  as  still  she  was,  as  if  in  sownd  she  lay,  [in  store  ; 
And  then  again,  wroth  with  herself,  with  feeble  voice  Jgan 

'Ah,  cruel  murthering  tongue,  murth'rer  of  others'  fame,[say : 
How  durst  thou  once  attempt  to  touch  the  honour  of  his  name  ? 
Whose  deadly  foes  do  yield  him  due  and  earned  praise ; 
For  though  his  freedom  be  bereft,  his  honour  not  decays. 
Why  blam'st  thou  Romeus  for  slaying  of  Tybalt,  IJ49 

Since  he  is  guiltless  quite  of  all,  and  Tybalt  bears  the  fault  ? 
Whither  shall  he,  alas,  poor  banished  man,  now  fly  ? 
What  place  of  succour  shall  he  seek  beneath  the  starry  sky? 
Since  she  pursueth  him,  and  him  defames  by  wrong, 
That  in  distress  should  be  his  fort,  and  only  rampire  strong. 
Receive  the  recompense,  O  Romeus,  of  thy  wife,  1 1 5  5 

Who,  for  she  was  unkind  herself,  doth  offer  up  her  life, 
In  flames  of  ire,  in  sighs,  in  sorrow  and  in  ruth, 
So  to  revenge  the  crime  she  did  commit  against  thy  truth.' 
These  said,  she  could  no  more ;  her  senses  all  'gan  fail, 
And  deadly  pangs  began  straightway  her  tender  heart  assail ; 
Her  limbs  she  stretched  forth,  she  drew  no  more  her  breath  : 
Who  had  been  there  might  well  have  seen  the  signs  of  present 
The  nurse  that  knew  no  cause  why  she  absented  her,    [death. 
Did  doubt  lest  that  some  sudden  grief  too  mucjrtormented  her. 
Each  where  but  where  she  was  the  careful  beldam  sought ; 
Last,  of  the  chamber  where  she  lay  she  haply  her  bethought ; 
Where  she  with  piteous  eye  her  nurse-child  did  behold, 
Her  limbs  stretched  out,  her  outward  parts  as  any  marble  cold. 


44  ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 

The  nurse  supposed  that  she  had  paid  to  death  her  debt, 
And  then,  as  she  had  lost  her  wits,  she  cried  to  Juliet :  1 1 70 
i  Ah,  my  dear  heart,'  quoth  she, i  how  grieveth  me  thy  death  ? 
Alas,  what  cause  hast  thou  thus  soon  to  yield  up  living  breath  ? ' 
But  while  she  handled  her,  and  chafed  every  part,  [heart, 
She  knew  there  was  some  spark  of  life  by  beating  of  her 
So  that  a  thousand  times  she  called  upon  her  name ;  1175 
There  is  no  way  to  help  a  trance  but  she  hath  tried  the  same  : 
She  openeth  wide  her  mouth,  she  stoppeth  close  her  nose, 
She  bendeth  down  her  breast,  she  wrings  her  fingers  and  her 
And  on  her  bosom  cold  she  layeth  clothes  hot ;  [toes, 

A  warmed  and  a  wholesome  juice  she  pourethdown  her  throat. 
At  length  doth  Juliet  heave  faintly  up  her  eyes,  [spies. 
And  then  she  stretcheth  forth  her  arm,  and  then  her  nurse  she 
But  when  she  was  awaked  from  her  unkindly  trance,  1183 
4  Why  dost  thou  trouble  me,'  quoth  she, '  what  drave  thee,  with 

mischance, 

To  come  to  see  my  sprite  forsake  my  breathless  corse  ? 
Go  hence,  and   let  me  die,  if  thou  have  on   my  smart 

remorse. 

For  who  would  see  her  friend  to  live  in  deadly  pain  ? 
Alas,  I  see  my  grief  begun  for  ever  will  remain. 
Or  who  would  seek  to  live,  all  pleasure  being  past  ?       1 189 
My  mirth  is  done,  my  mourning  moan  for  aye  is  like  to  last. 
Wherefore  since  that  there  is  none  other  remedy,          [die.' 
Come,  gentle  death,  and  rive  my  heart  at  once,  and  let  me 
The  nurse  with  trickling  tears,  to  witness  inward  smart, 
With  hollow  sigh  fetched  from  the  depth  of  her  appalled  heart, 


ROMEUS  AND  JULIET  45 

Thus  spake  to  Juliet,  y-clad  with  ugly  care :  1195 

'  Good  lady  mine,  I  do  not  know  what  makes  you  thus  to 
Ne  yet  the  cause  of  your  unmeasured  heaviness.  [fare  ; 

But  of  this  one  I  you  assure,  for  care  and  sorrow's  stress, 
This  hour  large  and  more  I  thought,  so  God  me  save,  1 199 
That  my  dead  corpse  should  wait  on  yours  to  your  untimely 
'Alas,  my  tender  nurse  and  trusty  friend/ quoth  she,  [grave/ 
4  Art  thou  so  blind  that  with  thine  eye  thou  canst  not  easely 
The  lawful  cause  I  have  to  sorrow  and  to  mourn,  [see 

Since  those  the  which  I  held  most  dear,  I  have  at  once  forlorn.' 
Her  nurse  then  answered  thus :  '  Methinks  it  sits  you  ill 
To  fall  in  these  extremities  that  may  you  guiltless  spill. 
For  when  the  storms  of  care  and  troubles  do  arise, 
Then  is  the  time  for  men  to  know  the  foolish  from  the  wise. 
You  are  accounted  wise,  a  fool  am  I  your  nurse  ;  1 209 

But  I  see  not  how  in  like  case  I  could  behave  me  worse. 
Tybalt  your  friend  is  dead ;  what,  ween  you  by  your  tears 
To  call  him  back  again  ?   think  you  that  he  your  crying 
You  shall   >erceive  the  fault,  if  it  be  justly  tried,         [hears  ? 
Of  his  so    idden  death,  was  in  his  rashness  and  his  pride. 
Would  y,u  that  Romeus  himself  had  wronged  so,          1215 
To  suffer  himself  causeless  to  be  outraged  of  his  foe, 
To  whom  in  no  respect  he  ought  a  place  to  give  ? 
Let  it  suffice  to  thee,  fair  dame,  that  Romeus  doth  live, 
And  that  there  is  good  hope  that  he,  within  a  while, 
With  greater  glory  shall  be  called  home  from  his  hard  exile. 
How  well  y-born  he  is,  thyself,  I  know,  canst  tell,         1221 
By  kindred  strong,  and  well  allied,  of  all  beloved  well. 


46  ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 

With  patience  arm  thyself,  for  though  that  Fortune's  crime, 
Without  your  fault,  to  both  your  griefs,  depart  you  for  a  time, 
I  dare  say,  for  amends  of  all  your  present  pain,  1225 

ShejwiU  jgstore^ojiir_QwnJ:o  you,  within  a  month  or  twain, 
With  such  contented  ease  as  never  erst  you  had ; 
Wherefore  rejoice  a  while  in  hope,  and  be  ne  more  so  sad. 
And  that  I  may  discharge  your  heart  of  heavy  care, 
A  certain  way  I  have  found  out,  my  pains  ne  will  I  spare, 
To  learn  his  present  state,  and  what  in  time  to  come    1231 
He  minds  to  do ;  which  known  by  me,  you  shall  know  all  and 
But  that  I  dread  the  whilst  your  sorrows  will  you  quell,  [some. 
Straight  would  I  hie  where  he  doth  lurk,  to  Friar  Laurence' 
But  if  you  'gin  eftsoons,  as  erst  you  did,  to  mourn,        [cell. 
Whereto  go  I  ?  you  will  be  dead,  before  I  thence  return. 
So  I  shall  spend  in  waste  my  time  and  busy  pain.          1237 
So  unto  you,  your  life  once  lost,  good  answer  comes  in  vain  ; 
So  shall  I  rid  myself  with  this  sharp-pointed  knife ; 
So  shall  you  cause  your  parents  dear  wax  weary  of  their  life  ; 
So  shall  your  Romeus,  despising  lively  breath,  1241 

With  hasty  foot,  before  his  time,  run  to  untimely  death. 
Where,  if  you  can  awhile,  by  reason,  rage  suppress, 
I  hope  at  my  return  to  bring  the  salve  of  your  distress. 
Now  choose  to  have  me  here  a  partner  of  your  pain,     1245 
Or  promise  me  to  feed  on  hope  till  I  return  again.' 

Her  mistress  sends  her  forth,  and  makes  a  grave  behest 
With  reason's  reign  to  rule  the  thoughts  that  rage  within  her 
When  hugy  heaps  of  harms  are  heaped  before  her  eyes,  [breast. 
Then  vanish  they  by  hope  of  'scape  ;   and  thus  the  lady  lies 


ROMEUS  AND  JULIET  47 

'Twixt  well  assured  trust,  and  doubtful  lewd  despair :   1251 
Now  black  and  ugly  be  her  thoughts ;  now  seem  they  white 

and  fair. 

As  oft  in  summer  tide  black  clouds  do  dim  the  sun, 
And  straight  again  in  clearest  sky  his  restless  steeds  do  run  ; 
So  Juliet's  wand'ring  mind  y-clouded  is  with  woe,         1255 
And  by  and  by  her  hasty  thought  the  woes  doth  overgo. 

But  now  is  time  to  tell,  whilst  she  was  tossed  thus, 
What  winds  did  drive  or  haven  did  hold  her  lover,  Romeus. 
When  he  had  slain  his  foe  that  'gan  this  deadly  strife,  1259 
And  saw  the  furious  fray  had  end  by  ending  Tybalt's  life, 
He  fled  the  sharp  revenge  of  those  that  yet  did  live, 
And  doubting  much  what  penal  doom  the  troubled  prince 

might  give, 

He  sought  somewhere  unseen  to  lurk  a  little  space, 
And  trusty  Laurence*  secret  cell  he  thought  the  surest  place. 
In  doubtful  hap  aye  best  a  trusty  friend  is  tried ;  1265 

The  friendly  friar  in  this  distress  doth  grant  his  friend  to 
A  secret  place  he  hath,  well  sealed  round  about,  [hide. 

The  mouth  of  which  so  close  is  shut,  that  none  may  find  it 
But  room  there  is  to  walk,  and  place  to  sit  and  rest,  [out ; 
Beside  a  bed  to  sleep  upon,  full  soft  and  trimly  drest.  1270 
The  floor  is  planked  so,  with  mats  it  is  so  warm,  [to  harm. 
That  neither  wind  nor  smoky  damps  have  power  him  aught 
Where  he  was  wont  in  youth  his  fair  friends  to  bestow, 
There  now  he  hideth  Romeus,  whilst  forth  he  goeth  to  know 
Both  what  is  said  and  done,  and  what  appointed  pain,  1275 
Is  published  by  trumpet's  sound ;  then  home  he  hies  again. 


48  ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 

By  this,  unto  his  cell  the  nurse  with  speedy  pace 
Was  come  the  nearest  way ;  she  sought  no  idle  resting  place. 
The  friar  sent  home  the  news  of  Romeus'  certain  health, 
And  promise  made,  what  so  befell,  he  should  that  night  by 
Come  to  his  wonted  place,  that  they  in  needful  wise  [stealth 
Of  their  affairs  in  time  to  come  might  thoroughly  devise. 
Those  joyful  news  the  nurse  brought  home  with  merry  joy  ; 
And  now  our  Juliet  joys  to  think  she  shall  her  love  enjoy. 
The  friar  shuts  fast  his  door,  and  then  to  him  beneath, 
That  waits  to  hear  the  doubtful  news  of  life  or  else  of  death, 
*  Thy  hap/  quoth  he,  '  is  good,  danger  of  death  is  none, 
But  thou  shalt  live,  and  do  full  well,  in  spite  of  spiteful  fone. 
This  only  pain  for  thee  was  erst  proclaimed  aloud,        1289 
A  banished  man,  thou  may'st  thee  not  within  Verona  shroud.' 

These  heavy  tidings  heard,  his  golden  locks  he  tare, 
And  like  a  frantic  man  hath  torn  the  garments  that  he  ware. 
And  as  the  smitten  deer  in  brakes  is  walt'ring  found,  [ground. 
So  wal'treth  he,  and  with  his  breast  doth  beat  the  trodden 
He  rises  eft,  and  strikes  his  head  against  the  walls,         1295 
He  falleth  down  again,  and  loud  for  hasty  death  he  calls. 
'  Come  speedy  death,'  quoth  he,  l  the  readiest  leech  in  love ; 
Since  nought  can  else  beneath  the  sun  the  ground  of  grief 

remove, 

Of  loathsome  life  break  down  the  hated,  staggering  stays, 
Destroy,  destroy  at  once  the  life  that  faintly  yet  decays.  1 300 
But  you,  fair  dame,  in  whom  dame  Nature  did  devise 
With  cunning  hand  to  work  that  might  seem  wondrous  in 
our  eyes, 


ROMEUS  AND  JULIET  49 

For  you,  I  pray  the  Gods,  your  pleasures  to  increase, 
And  all  mishap,  with  this  my  death,  for  evermore  to  cease. 
And  mighty  Jove  with  speed  of  justice  bring  them  low, 
Whose  lofty  pride,  without  our  guilt,  our  bliss  doth  overblow. 
And  Cupid  grant  to  those  their  speedy  wrongs'  redress, 
That  shall  bewail  my  cruel  death  and  pity  her  distress.' 
Therewith  a  cloud  of  sighs  he  breathed  into  the  skies,   1309 
And  two  great  streams  of  bitter  tears  ran  from  his  swollen 

eyes. 

These  things  the  ancient  friar  with  sorrow  saw  and  heard, 
Of  such  beginning,  eke  the  end,  the  wise  man  greatly  feared. 
But  lo,  he  was  so  weak,  by  reason  of  his  age, 
That  he  ne  could  by  force  repress  the  rigour  of  his  rage. 
His  wise  and  friendly  words  he  speaketh  to  the  air,       1315 
For  Romeus  so  vexed  is  with  care  and  with  despair, 
That  no  advice  can  pierce  his  close  forestopped  ears ; 
So  now  the  friar  doth  take  his  part  in  shedding  ruthful  tears. 
With  colour  pale  and  wan,  with  arms  full  hard  y-fold, 
With  woeful  cheer  his  wailing  friend  he  standeth  to  behold. 
And  then  our  Romeus  with  tender  hands  y-wrung,       1321 
With  voice  with  plaint  made  hoarse,  with  sobs,  and  with  a 

faltering  tongue, 

Renewed  with  novel  moan  the  dolours  of  his  heart ; 
His  outward  dreary  cheer  bewrayed  his  store  of  inward  smart. 
First  Nature  did  he  blame,  the  author  of  his  life.          1325 
IiTwRich  hisjoys  had_been  so  scant,  and  sorrows  aye  so  rife ; 
The  time  and  place  of  birth  he  fiercely  did  reprove, 
He  cried  out,  with  open  mouth,  against  the  stars  above ; 

£ 


50  ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 

The  fatal  sisters  three,  he  said,  had  done  him  wrong, 

The  thread  that  should  not  have  been  spun,  they  had  drawn 

forth  too  long.  133& 

He  wished  that  he  had  before  this  time  been  born, 
Or  that  as  soon  as  he  wan-  light,  his  life  he  had  forlorn. 
His  nurse  he  cursed,  and  the  hand  that  gave  him  pap, 
The  midwife  eke  with  tender  grip  that  held  him  in  her  lap  ; 
And  then  did  he  complain  on  Venus'  cruel  son,  !335 

Who  led  him  first  unto  the  rocks  which  he  should  warely 

shun : 

By  means  whereof  he  lost  both  life  and  liberty, 
And  died  a  hundred  times  a  day,  and  yet  could  never  die. 
Love's  troubles  lasten  long,  the  joys  he  gives  are  short ; 
He  forceth  not  a  lover's  pain,  their  earnest  is  his  sport.   1 340 
A  thousand  things  and  more  I  here  let  pass  to  write, 
Which  unto  Love  this  woeful  man  did  speak  in  great  despite* 
On  Fortune  eke  he  railed,  he  called  her  deaf  and  blind, 
Unconstant,  fond,  deceitful,  rash,  unruthful,  and  unkind. 
And  to  himself  he  laid  a  great  part  of  the  fault,  1345 

For  that  he  slew  and  was  not  slain,  in  fighting  with  Tybalt. 
He  blamed  all  the  world,  and  all  he  did  defy, 
But  Juliet  for  whom  he  live~cf,  for  whom  eke  would  he  die. 

When  after  raging  fits  appeased  was  his  rage, 
And  when  his  passions,  poured  forth,  'gan  partly  to  assuage,. 
So  wisely  did  the  friar  unto  his  tale  reply,  13S1 

That  he  straight  cared  for  his  life,  that  erst  had  care  to  die. 
'  Art  thou,'  quoth  he,  *  a  man  ?  Thy  shape  saith,  so  thou  art ; 
Thy  crying,  and  thy  weeping  eyes  denote  a  woman's  heart^ 


ROMEUS  AND  JULIET  5 1 

For  manly  reason  is  quite  from  off  thy  mind  outchased,  1355 
And  in  her  stead  affections  lewd  and  fancies  highly  placed : 
So  that  I  stood  in  doubt,  this  hour,  at  the  least, 
If  thou  a  man  or  woman  wert,  or  else  a  brutish  beast. 
A  wise  man  in  the  midst  of  troubles  and  distress       [redress. 
Still  stands  not  wailing  present  harm,  but  seeks  his  harm's 
As  when  the  winter  flaws  with  dreadful  noise  arise,       1361 
And  heave  the  foamy  swelling  waves  up  to  the  starry  skies, 
So  that  the  bruised  bark  in  cruel  seas  betost, 
Despaireth  of  the  happy  haven,  in  danger  to  be  lost, 
The  pilot  bold  at  helm,  cries,  "Mates,  strike  now  your  sail," 
And  turns  her  stem  into  the  waves  that  strongly  her  assail ; 
Then  driven  hard  upon  the  bare  and  wrackful  shore,     1367 
In  greater  danger  to  be  wracked  than  he  had  been  before, 
He  seeth  his  ship  full  right  against  the  rock  to  run, 
But  yet  he  doth  what  lieth  in  him  the  perilous  rock  to  shun  : 
Sometimes  the  beaten  boat,  by  cunning  government,     1371 
The  anchors  lost,  the  cables  broke,  and  all  the  tackle  spent, 
The  rudder  smitten  off,  and  overboard  the  mast, 
Doth  win  the  long  desired  port,  the  stormy  danger  past : 
But  if  the  master  dread,  and  overpressed  with  woe         1375 
Begin  to  wring  his  hands,  and  lets  the  guiding  rudder  go, 
The  ship  rents  on  the  rock,  or  sinketh  in  the  deep, 
And  eke  the  coward  drenched  is :  So,  if  thou  still  beweep 
And  seek  not  how  to  help  the  changes  that  do  chance,  1 3  79 
Thy  cause  of  sorrow  shall  increase,  thou  cause  of  thy  mis- 
Other  account  thee  wise,  prove  not  thyself  a  fool ;    [chance. 
Now  put  in  practice  lessons  learned  of  old  in  wisdom's  school. 


52  ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 

The  wise  man  saith,  "  Beware  thou  double  not  thy  pain, 
For  one  perhaps  thou  may'st  abide,  but  hardly  suffer  twain." 
As  well  we  ought  to  seek  things  hurtful  to  decrease,      1385 
As  to  endeavour  helping  things  by  study  to  increase. 
The  praise  of  true  freedom  in  wisdom's  bondage  lies, 
He  winneth  blame  whose  deeds  be  fond,  although  his  words 
Sickness  the  body's  gaol,  grief  gaol  is  of  the  mind,  [be  wise. 
If  thou  canst  'scape  from  heavy  grief,  true  freedom  shalt  thou 
Fortune  can  fill  nothing  so  full  of  hearty  grief,  [find. 

But  in  the  same  a  constant  mind  finds  solace  and  relief. 
Virtue  is  always  thrall  to  troubles  and  annoy,  J393 

But  wisdom  in  adversity  finds  cause  of  quiet  joy. 
And  they  most  wretched  are  that  know  no  wretchedness, 
And  after  great  extremity  mishaps  aye  waxen  less. 
Like  as  there  is  no  weal  but  wastes  away  sometime, 
So  every  kind  of  wailed  woe  will  wear  away  in  time. 
If  thou  wilt  master  quite  the  troubles  that  thee  spill, 
Endeavour  first  by  reason's  help  to  master  witless  will.  1400 
A  sundry  med'cine  hath  each  sundry  faint  disease, 
But  patience,  a  common  salve,  to  every  wound  gives  ease. 
The  world  is  alway  full  of  chances  and  of  change,    [strange. 
Wherefore  the  change  of  chance  must  not  seem  to  a  wise  man 
For  tickel  Fortune  doth,  in  changing,  but  her  kind,      1405 
But  all  her  changes  cannot  change  a  steady  constant  mind. 
Though  wavering  Fortune  turn  from  thee  her  smiling  face, 
And  Sorrow  seek  to  set  himself  in  banished  Pleasure's  place, 
Yet  may  thy  marred  state  be  mended  in  a  while,        [smile, 
And  she  eftsoons  that  frowneth  now,  with  pleasant  cheer  shall 


ROMEUS  &MD  JULIET  53 

For  as  her  happy  state  no  long  while  standeth  sure,       14.1 1 
Even  so  the  heavy  plight  she  brings,  not  always  doth  endure. 
What  need  so  many  words  to  thee  that  art  so  wise  ? 
Thou  better  canst  advise  thyself,  than  I  can  thee  advise. 
Wisdom,  I  see,  is  vain,  if  thus  in  time  of  need  I4I5 

A  wise  man's  wit  unpractised  doth  stand  him  in  no  stede. 
I  know  thou  hast  some  cause  of  sorrow  and  of  care, 
But  well  I  wot  thou  hast  no  cause  thus  franticly  to  fare. 
Affection's  foggy  mist  thy  feebled  sight  doth  blind  ;       1419 
But  if  that  reason's  beams  again  might  shine  into  thy  mind, 
If  thou  would'st  view  thy  state  with  an  indifferent  eye,     [cry. 
I  think  thou  would'st  condemn  thy  plaint,  thy  sighing,  and  thy 
With  valiant  hand  thou  mad'st  thy  foe  yield  up  his  breath, 
Thou  hast  escaped  his  sword  and  eke  the  laws  that  threaten 
By  thy  escape  thy  friends  are  fraughted  full  of  joy,     [death. 
And  by  his  death  thy  deadly  foes  are  laden  with  annoy. 
Wilt  thou  with  trusty  friends  of  pleasure  take  some  part  ? 
Or  else  to  please  thy  hateful  foes  be  partner  of  their  smart  ? 
Why  cry'st  thou  out  on  love  ?    Why  dost  thou  blame  thy  fate  ? 
Why  dost  thou  so  cry  after  death  ?     Thy  life  why  dost  thou 

hate?  H3° 

Dost  thou  repent  the  choice  that  thou  so  late  didst  choose  ? 
Love  is  thy  Lord ;  thou  ought'st  obey  and  not  thy  prince 

accuse. 

For  thou  hast  found,  thou  know'st,  great  favour  in  his  sight. 
He  granted  thee,  at  thy  request,  thy  only  heart's  delight. 
So  that  the  gods  envied  the  bliss  thou  lived'st  in ;          1435 
To  give  to  such  unthankful  men  is  folly  and  a  sin. 


54  ROMEUS  JULIET 

Methinks  1  hear  thee  say,  the  cruel  banishment 
Is  only  cause  of  thy  unrest ;  only  thou  dost  lament 
That  from  thy  native  land  and  friends  thou  must  depart, 
Enforced  to  fly  from  her  that  hath  the  keeping  of  thy  heart : 
And  so  oppressed  with  weight  of  smart  that  thou  dost  feel, 
Thou  dost  complain  of  Cupid's  brand,  and  Fortune's  turning 
Unto  a  valiant  heart  there  is  no  banishment,  [wheel. 

All  countries  are  his  native  soil  beneath  the  firmament. 
As  to  the  fish  the  sea,  as  to  the  fowl  the  air,  H45 

So  is  like  pleasant  to  the  wise  each  place  of  his  repair. 
Though  froward  Fortune  chase  thee  hence  into  exile, 
With  doubled  honour  shall  she  call  thee  home  within  a  while. 
Admit  thou  should'st  abide  abroad  a  year  or  twain,     [pain  ? 
Should  so  short  absence  cause  so  long  and  eke  so  grievous 
Though  thou  ne  may'st  thy  friends  here  in  Verona  see,  145 1 
They  are  not  banished  Mantua,  where  safely  thou  may'st  be. 
Thither  they  may  resort,  though  thou  resort  not  hither, 
And  there  in  surety  may  you  talk  of  your  affairs  together. 
Yea,  but  this  while,  alas,  thy  Juliet  must  thou  miss,      1455 
The  only  pillar  of  thy  health,  and  anchor  of  thy  bliss. 
Thy  heart  thou  leav'st  with  her,  when  thou  dost  hence  depart, 
And  in  thy  breast  inclosed  bear'st  her  tender  friendly  heart. 
But  if  thou  rue  so  much  to  leave  the  rest  behind,  *459 

With  thought  of  passed  joys  content  thy  uncontented  mind. 
So  shall  the  moan  decrease  wherewith  thy  mind  doth  melt, 
Compared  to  the  heavenly  joys  which  thou  hast  often  felt. 
He  is  too  nice  a  weakling  that  shrinketh  at  a  shower, 
And  he  unworthy  of  the  sweet,  that  tasteth  not  the  sour. 


ROMEUS  AND  JULIET  55 

Call  now  again  to  mind  thy  first  consuming  flame,        1465 
How  didst  thou  vainly  burn  in  love  of  an  unloving  dame  ? 
Hadst  thou  not  wellnigh  wept  quite  out  thy  swelling  eyne  ? 
Did  not  thy  parts,  fordone  with  pain,  languish  away  and 
Those  griefs  and  others  like  were  haply  overpast,         [pine  ? 
And  thou  in  height  of  Fortune's  wheel  well  placed  at  the  last ! 
From  whence  thou  art  now  fall'n,  that,  raised  up  again, 
With  greater  joy  a  greater  while  in  pleasure  may'st  thou  reign. 
Compare  the  present  while  with  times  y-past  before,     1473 
And  think  that  Fortune  hath  for  thee  great  pleasure  yet  in 
The  whilst,  this  little  wrong  receive  thou  patiently,    [store. 
And  what  offeree  must  needs  be  done,  that  do  thou  willingly. 
Folly  it  is  to  fear  that  thou  canst  not  avoid, 
And  madness  to  desire  it  much  that  cannot  be  enjoyed. 
To  give  to  Fortune  place,  not  aye  deserveth  blame, 
But  skill  it  is,  according  to  the  times  thyself  to  frame.'  1480 
Whilst  to  this  skilful  lore  he  lent  his  listening  ears,  [tears. 
His  sighs  are  stopped  and  stopped  are  the  conduits  of  his 
As  blackest  clonds  are  chased  by  winter's  nimble  wind, 
So  have  his  reasons  chased  care  out  of  his  careful  mind. 
As  of  a  morning  foul  ensues  an  evening  fair, 
So  banished  hope  returneth  home  to  banish  his  despair. 
Now  is  affection's  veil  removed  from  his  eyes, 
He  seeth  the  path  that  he  must  walk,  and  reason  makes  him 
For  very  shame  the  blood  doth  flash  in  both~Tiis~cheeks,~~ 
He  thanks  the  father  for  his  lore,  and  farther  aid  he  seeks. 
He  saith,  that  skill-less  youth  for  counsel  is  unfit,  1491 

And  anger  oft  with  hastiness  are  joined  to  want  of  wit; 


56  ROMEUS        D  JULIET 

But  sound  advice  abounds  in  heads  with  hoarish  hairs, 
For  wisdom  is  by  practice  won,  and  perfect  made  by  years. 
But  aye  from  this  time  forth  his  ready  bending  will      1495 
Shall  be  in  awe  and  governed  by  Friar  Laurence'  skill. 
The  governor  is  now  right  careful  of  his  charge, 
To  whom  he  doth  wisely  discourse  of  his  affairs  at  large. 
He  tells  him  how  he  shall  depart  the  town  unknown, 
Both  mindful  of  his  friend's  safety,  and  careful  of  his  own  ; 
How  he  shall  guide  himself,  how  he  shall  seek  to  win  1501 
The  friendship  of  the  better  sort,  how  warely  to  creep  in 
The  favour  of  the  Mantuan  prince,  and  how  he  may 
Appease  the  wrath  of  Escalus,  and  wipe  the  fault  away ; 
The  choler  of  his  foes  by  gentle  means  t' assuage,  1505 

Or  else  by  force  and  practices  to  bridle  quite  their  rage : 
And  last  he  chargeth  him  at  his  appointed  hour 
To  go  with  manly,  merry  cheer  unto  his  lady's  bower, 
And  there  with  wholesome  words  to  salve  her  sorrow's  smart, 
And  to  revive,  if  need  require,  her  faint  and  dying  heart. 
The  old  man's  words  have  filled  with  joy  our  Romeus* 

breast,  1511 

And  eke  the  old  wife's  talk  hath  set  our  Juliet's  heart  at  rest. 
Whereto  may  I  compare,  O  lovers,  this  your  day  ? 
Like  days  the  painful  mariners  are  wonted  to  assay ; 
For,  beat  with  tempest  great,  when  they  at  length  espy   1515 
Some  little  beam  of  Phoebus'  light,  that  pierceth  through 

the  sky, 

To  clear  the  shadowed  earth  by  clearness  of  his  face,   [race ; 
They  hope  that  dreadless  they  shall  run  the  remnant  of  their 


ROMEUS  AND  JULIET  57 

Yea,  they  assure  themself,  and  quite  behind  their  back 
They  cast  all  doubt,  and  thank  the  gods  for  scaping  of  the 

wrack;  I52° 

But  straight  the  boisterous  winds  with  greater  fury  blow, 
And  overboard  the  broken  mast  the  stormy  blasts  do  throw  ; 
The  heavens  large  are  clad  with  clouds  as  dark  as  hell, 
And  twice  as  high  the  striving  waves  begin  to  roar  and  swell ; 
With  greater  dangers  dread  the  men  are  vexed  more,    i$25 
In  greater  peril  of  their  life  than  they  had  been  before. 
The  golden  sun  was  gone  to  lodge  him  in  the  west, 
The  full  moon  eke  in  yonder  south  had  sent  most  men  to 
When  restless  Romeus  and  restless  Juliet  [rest, 

In  wonted  sort,  by  wonted  mean,  in  Juliet's  chamber  met. 
And  from  the  window's  top  down  had  he  leaped  scarce, 
When  she  with  arms  outstretched  wide  so  hard  did  him 

embrace,  1 5  3  2 

That  wellnigh  had  the  sprite,  not  forced  by  deadly  force, 
Flown  unto  death,  before  the  time  abandoning  the  corse, 
Thus  muet  stood  they  both  the  eighth  part  of  an  hour, 
And  both  would  speak,  but  neither  had  of  speaking  any  power  ; 
But  on  his  breast  her  head  doth  joyless  Juliet  lay,          1537 
And  on  her  slender  neck  his  chin  doth  ruthful  Romeus  stay. 
Their  scalding  sighs  ascend,  and  by  their  cheeks  down  fall 
Their  trickling  tears,  as  crystal  clear,  but  bitterer  far  than 
Then  he,  to  end  the  grief  which  both  they  lived  in,     [gall. 
Did  kiss  his  love,  and  wisely  thus  his  tale  he  did  begin : 

1  My  Juliet,  my  love,  my  only  hope  and  care, 
To  you  I  purpose  not  as  now  with  length  of  words  declare 


58  ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 

The  diverseness  and  eke  the  accidents  so  strange  *545 

Of  frail  unconstant  Fortune,  that  delighteth  still  in  change ; 
Who  in  a  moment  heaves  her  friends  up  to  the  height  [straight. 
Of  her  swift-turning  slippery  wheel,  then  fleets  her  friendship 
O  wondrous  change,  even  with  the  twinkling  of  an  eye 
Whom  erst  herself  had  rashly  set  in  pleasant  place  so  high, 
The  same  in  great  despite  down  headlong  doth  she  throw, 
And  while  she  treads  and  spurneth  at  the  lofty  state  laid  low, 
More  sorrow  doth  she  shape  within  an  hour's  space,      1553 
Than  pleasure  in  an  hundred  years ;  so  geason  is  her  grace. 
The  proof  whereof  in  me,  alas,  too  plain  appears,         [feres, 
Whom  tenderly  my  careful  friends  have  fostered  with  my 
In  prosperous  high  degree,  maintained  so  by  fate, 
That,  as  yourself  did  see,  my  foes  envied  my  noble  state. 
One  thing  there  was  I  did  above  the  rest  desire,  *559 

To  which  as  to  the  sovereign  good  by  hope  I  would  aspire. 
That  by  our  marriage  mean  we  might  within  a  while, 
To  work  our  perfect  happiness,  our  parents  reconcile : 
That  safely  so  we  might,  not  stopped  by  sturdy  strife,   [life. 
Unto  the  bounds  that  God  hath  set,  guide  forth  our  pleasant 
But  now,  alack,  too  soon  my  bliss  is  overblown,  I5b$ 

And  upside  down  my  purpose  and  my  enterprise  are  thrown. 
And  driven  from  my  friends,  of  strangers  must  I  crave ; 
Oh,  grant  it  God,  from  dangers  dread  that  I  may  surety  have. 
For  lo,  henceforth  I  must  wander  in  lands  unknown     1569 
(So  hard  I  find  the  Prince's  doom),  exildd  from  mine  own. 
Which  thing  I  have  thought  good  to  set  before  your  eyes, 
And  to  exhort  you  now  to  prove  yourself  a  woman  wise, 


ROMEUS  AND  JULIET  59 

That  patiently  you  bear  my  absent  long  abode, 

For  what  above  by  fatal  dooms  decreed  is,  that  God ' 

And  more  than  this  to  say,  it  seemed,  he  was  bent,       1575 
But  Juliet  in  deadly  grief,  with  brackish  tears  besprent, 
Brake  off  his  tale  begun,  and  whilst  his  speech  he  stayed, 
These  selfsame  words,  or  like  to  these,  with  dreary  cheer  she 
1  Why,  Romeus,  can  it  be  thou  hast  so  hard  a  heart ;  [said  : 
So  far  removed  from  ruth  ;  so  far  from  thinking  on  my  smart ; 
To  leave  me  thus  alone,  thou  cause  of  my  distress, 
Besieged  with  so  great  a  camp  of  mortal  wretchedness,  1582 
That  every  hour  now,  and  moment  in  a  day, 
A  thousand  times  Death  brags,  as  he  would  reave  my  life 
Yet  such  is  my  mishap,  O  cruel  destiny,  [away  ? 

That  still  I  live,  and  wish  for  death,  but  yet  can  never  die ; 
So  that  just  cause  I  have  to  think,  as  seemeth  me, 
That  froward  Fortune  did  of  late  with  cruel  Death  agree 
To  lengthen  loathed  life,  to  pleasure  in  my  pain, 
And  triumph  in  my  harm,  as  in  the  greatest  hoped  gain. 
And  thou,  the  instrument  of  Fortune's  cruel  will,          *S9l 
Without  whose  aid  she  can  no  way  her  tyrannous  lust  fulfil, 
Art  not  a  whit  ashamed,  as  far  as  I  can  see, 
To  cast  me  off,  when  thou  hast  culled  the  better  part  of  me. 
Whereby,  alas,  too  soon,  I,  seely  wretch,  do  prove,        1595 
That  all  the  ancient  sacred  laws  of  friendship  and  of  love 
Are  quelled  and  quenched  quite,  since  he,  on  whom  alway 
My  chief  hope  and  my  steady  trust  was  wonted  still  to  stay, 
For  whom  I  am  become  unto  myself  a  foe,  [ship  so. 

Disdaineth  me,  his  steadfast  friend,  and  scorns  my  friend- 


60  ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 

Nay,  Romeus,  nay,  thou  may'st  of  two  things  choose  the 

one, 

Either  to  see  thy  castaway,  as  soon  as  thou  art  gone,     1602 
Headlong  to  throw  herself  down  from  the  window's  height, 
And  so  to  break  her  slender  neck  with  all  the  body's  weight, 
Or  suffer  her  to  be  companion  of  thy  pain, 
Whereso  thou  go,  Fortune  thee  guide,  till  thou  return  again. 
So  wholly  into  thine  transformed  is  my  heart, 
That  even  as  oft  as  I  do  think  that  thou  and  I  shall  part, 
So  oft,  methinks,  my  life  withdraws  itself  away, 
Which  I  retain  to  no  end  else  but  to  the  end  I  may,    1610 
In  spite  of  all  thy  foes,  thy  present  parts  enjoy, 
And  in  distress  to  bear  with  thee  the  half  of  thine  annoy. 
Wherefore,  in  humble  sort,  Romeus,  I  make  request, 
If  ever  tender  pity  yet  were  lodged  in  gentle  breast, 
Oh,  let  it  now  have  place  to  rest  within  thy  heart;       1615 
Receive  me  as  thy  servant,  and  the  fellow  of  thy  smart. 
Thy  absence  is  my  death,  thy  sight  shall  give  me  life ; 
But  if  perhaps  thou  stand  in  dread  to  lead  me  as  a  wife, 
Art  thou  all  counsel-less  ?     Canst  thou  no  shift  devise  ? 
What  letteth  but  in  other  weed  I  may  myself  disguise  ?    1620 
What,  shall  I  be  the  first  ?     Hath  none  done  so  ere  this, 
To  'scape  the  bondage  of  their  friends  ?    Thyself  can  answer, 

yes. 

Or  dost  thou  stand  in  doubt  that  I  thy  wife  ne  can 
By  service  pleasure  thee  as  much  as  may  thy  hired  man  ? 
Or  is  my  loyalty  of  both  accompted  less  ?  1625 

Perhaps  thou  fear'st  lest  I  for  gain  forsake  thee  in  distress. 


ROMEUS  AND  JULIET  61 

What,  hath  my  beauty  now  no  power  at  all  on  you, 
Whose  brightness,  force,  and  praise,  sometime  up  to  the  skies 

you  blew  ? 

My  tears,  my  friendship  and  my  pleasures  done  of  old, 
Shall  they  be  quite  forgot  indeed?' 

When  Romeus  did  behold     1630 
The  wildness  of  her  look,  her  colour  pale  and  dead, 
The  worst  of  all  that  might  betide  to  her,  he  'gan  to  dread  ; 
And  once  again  he  did  in  arms  his  Juliet  take, 
And  kissed  her  with  a  loving  kiss,  and  thus  to  her  he  spake : 
'  Ah,  Juliet,'  quoth  he,  *  the  mistress  of  my  heart,      1635 
For  whom,  even  now,  thy  servant  doth  abide  in  deadly 
Even  for  the  happy  days  which  thou  desir'st  to  see,    [smart, 
And  for  the  fervent  friendship's  sake  that  thou  dost  owe  to 
At  once  these  fancies  vain  out  of  thy  mind  root  out,      [me, 
Except,  perhaps,  unto  thy  blame,  thou  fondly  go  about 
To  hasten  forth  my  death,  and  to  thine  own  to  run,     1641 
Which  Nature's  law  and  wisdom's  lore  teach  every  wight  to 
For,  but  thou  change  thy  mind,  I  do  foretell  the  end,  [shun. 
Thou  shalt  undo  thyself  for  aye,  and  me  thy  trusty  friend. 
For  why,  thy  absence  known,  thy  father  will  be  wroth, 
And  in  his  rage  so  narrowly  he  will  pursue  us  both,      1646 
That  we  shall  try  in  vain  to  'scape  away  by  flight, 
And  vainly  seek  a  lurking  place  to  hide  us  from  his  sight. 
Then  we,  found  out  and  caught,  quite  void  of  strong  defence, 
Shall  cruelly  be  punished  for  thy  departure  hence ;        1650 
I  as  a  ravisher,  thou  as  a  careless  child, 
I  as  a  man  who  doth  defile,  thou  as  a  maid  defiled ; 


62  ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 

Thinking  to  lead  in  ease  a  long  contented  life,  [wife, 

Shall  short  our  days  by  shameful  death  :  but  if,  my  loving 
Thou  banish  from  thy  mind  two  foes  that  counsel  hath, 
That  wont  to  hinder  sound  advice,  rash  hastiness  and  wrath  ; 
If  thou  be  bent  t'obey  the  lore  of  reason's  skill  1657 

And  wisely  by  her  princely  power  suppress  rebelling  will, 
If  thou  our  safety  seek,  more  than  thine  own  delight, 
Since  surety  stands  in  parting,  and  thy  pleasures  grow  of  sight, 
Forbear  the  cause  of  joy,  and  suffer  for  a  while,  1661 

So  shall  I  safely  live  abroad,  and  safe  turn  from  exile, 
So  shall  no  slander's  blot  thy  spotless  life  distain, 
So  shall  thy  kinsmen  be  unstirred,  and  I  exempt  from  pain. 
And  think  thou  not,  that  aye  the  cause  of  care  shall  last ; 
These  stormy  broils  shall  overblow,  much  like  a  winter's 
For  Fortune  changeth  more  than  fickle  fantasy  ;  [blast. 

In  nothing  Fortune  constant  is  save  in  unconstancy. 
Her  hasty  running  wheel  is  of  a  restless  course,  [worse, 

That  turns  the  climbers  headlong  down,  from  better  to  the 
And  those  that  are  beneath  she  heaveth  up  again  :         1671 
So  we  shall  rise  to  pleasure's  mount,  out  of  the  pit  of  pain. 
Ere  four  months  overpass,  such  order  will  I  take,        [make, 
And  by  my  letters  and  my  friends  such  means  I  mind  to 
That  of  my  wand'ring  race  ended  shall  be  the  toil,        1675 
And  I  called  home  with  honour  great  unto  my  native  soil. 
But  if  I  be  condemned  to  wander  still  in  thrall, 
I  will  return  to  you,  mine  own,  befall  what  may  befall. 
And  then  by  strength  of  friends,  and  with  a  mighty  hand, 
From  Verone  will  I  carry  thee  into  a  foreign  land,        1680 


ROMEUS  AND  JULIET  63 

Not  in  man's  weed  disguised,  or  as  one  scarcely  known, 
But  as  my  wife  and  only  fere,  in  garment  of  thine  own. 
Wherefore  repress  at  once  the  passions  of  thy  heart,    [smart. 
And  where  there  is  no  cause  of  grief,  cause  hope  to  heal  thy 
For  of  this  one  thing  thou  may'st  well  assured  be,         1685 
That  nqthing_elseJiut ^only jleath .shalLs.un.derjme  frpmjth.ee/ 

The  reasons  that  he  made  did  seem  of  so  great  weight, 
And  had  with  her  such  force,  that  she  to  him  'gan  answer 

'Dear  sir,  nought  else  wish  I  but  to  obey  your  will ;  [straight: 
But  sure  whereso  you  go,  your  heart  with  me  shall  tarry  still, 
As  sign  and  certain  pledge,  till  here  I  shall  you  see,       1 69 1 
Of  all  the  power  that  over  you  yourself  did  grant  to  me; 
And  in  his  stead  take  mine,  the  gage  of  my  good  will. — 
One  promise  crave  I  at  your  hand,  that  grant  me  to  fulfil ; 
Fail  not  to  let  me  have,  at  Friar  Laurence'  hand,  1695 

The  tidings  of  your  health,  and  how  your  doubtful  case  shall 
And  all  the  weary  while  that  you  shall  spend  abroad,  [stand. 
Cause  me  from  time  to  time  to  know  the  place  of  your  abode.' 
His  eyes  did  gush  out  tears,  a  sigh  brake  from  his  breast, 
When  he  did  grant  and  with  an  oath  did  vow  to  keep  the  hest. 

Thus  these  two  lovers  pass  away  the  weary  night,      1 70 1 
In  pain  and  plaint,  not,  as  they  wont,  in  pleasure  and  delight. 
But  now,  somewhat  too  soon,  in  farthest  east  arose 
Fair  Lucifer,  the  golden  star  that  lady  Venus  chose ; 
Whose  course  appointed  is  with  speedy  race  to  run,       1705 
A  messenger  of  dawning  day  and  of  the  rising  sun. 
Then  fresh  Aurora  with  her  pale  and  silver  glade 
Did  clear  the  skies,  and  from  the  earth  had  chas6d  ugly  shade. 


64  ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 

When  thou  ne  lookest  wide,  ne  closely  dost  thou  wink, 
When  Phoebus  from  our  hemisphere  in  western  wave  doth  sink, 
What  colour  then  the  heavens  do  show  unto  thine  eyes, 
The  same,  or  like,  saw  Romeus  in  farthest  eastern  skies. 
As  yet  he  saw  no  day,  ne  could  he  call  it  night, 
With  equal  force  decreasing  dark  fought  with  increasing  light. 
Then  Romeus  in  arms  his  lady  'gan  to  fold,  1 7 1 5 

With  friendly  kiss,  and  ruthfully  she  'gan  her  knight  behold. 
With  solemn  oath  they  both  their  sorrowful  leave  do  take ; 
They  swear  no  stormy  troubles  shall  their  steady  friendship 
Then  careful  Romeus  again  to  cell  returns,  [shake. 

And  in  her  chamber  secretly  our  joyless  Juliet  mourns. 
Now  hugy  clouds  of  care,  of  sorrow,  and  of  dread,         1721 
The  clearness  of  their  gladsome  hearts  hath  wholly  overspread. 
When  golden-crested  Phoebus  boasteth  him  in  sky, 
And  under  earth,  to  'scape  revenge,  his  deadly  foe  doth  fly, 
Then  hath  these  lovers'  day  an  end,  their  night  begun, 
For  each  of  them  to  other  is  as  to  the  world  the  sun,    1726 
The  dawning  they  shall  see,  ne  summer  any  more,       [sore. 
But  blackfaced  night  with  winter  rough,  ah,  beaten  over 
The  weary  watch  discharged  did  hie  them  home  to  sleep, 
The  warders  and  the  scouts  were  charged  their  place  and  course 
And  Verone  gates  awide  the  porters  had  set  open,     [to  keep, 
When  Romeus  had  of  his  affairs  with  Friar  Laurence  spoken. 
Warely  he  walked  forth,  unknown  of  friend  or  foe,       1733 
Clad  like  a  merchant  venturer,  from  top  even  to  the  toe. 
He  spurred  apace,  and  came,  withouten  stop  or  stay, 
To  Mantua  gates,  where  lighted  down,  he  sent  his  man  away 


ROMEUS  AND  JULIET  65 

With  words  of  comfort  to  his  old  afflicted  sire;  1737 

And  straight,  in  mind  to  sojourn  there,  a  lodging  doth  he  hire, 
And  with  the  nobler  sort  he  doth  himself  acquaint, 
And  of  his  open  wrong  received  the  duke  doth  hear  his  plaint. 
He  practiseth  by  friends  for  pardon  of  exile  ;  1741 

The  whilst  he  seeketh  every  way  his  sorrows  to  beguile. 
But  who  forgets  the  coal  that  burneth  in  his  breast  ? 
Alas,  his  cares  deny  his  heart  the  sweet  desired  rest ; 
No  time  finds  he  of  mirth,  he  finds  no  place  of  joy,       1745 
But  everything  occasion  gives  of  sorrow  and  annoy. 
For  when  in  turning  skies  the  heaven's  lamps  are  light, 
And  from  the  other  hemisphere  fair  Phoebus  chaseth  night, 
When  every  man  and  beast  hath  rest  from  painful  toil, 
Then  in  the  breast  of  Romeus  his  passions  'gin  to  boil.  1750 
Then  doth  he  wet  with  tears  the  couch  whereon  he  lies, 
And  then  his  sighs  the  chamber  fill,  and  out  aloud  he  cries 
Against  the  restless  stars  in  rolling  skies  that  range, 
Against^the  fajal  sisters,  three,  and  Fortune  full  of  change. 
Each  night  a  thousand  times  he  calleth  for  the  day,       1755 
He  thinketh  Titan's  restless  steeds  of  restiness  do  stay ; 
Or  that  at  length  they  have  some  baiting  place  found  out, 
Or,  guided  ill,  have  lost  their  way  and  wandered  far  about. 
While  thus  in  idle  thoughts  the  weary  time  he  spendeth, 
The  night  hath  end,  but  not  with  night  the  plaint  of  night 
Is  he  accompanied  ?     Is  he  in  place  alone?          [he  endeth. 
In  company  he  wails  his  harm,  apart  he  maketh  moan  : 
For  if  his  feres  rejoice,  what  cause  hath  he  to  joy,     [enjoy  ? 
That  wanteth  still  his  chief  delight,  while  they  their  loves 


66  ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 

But  if  with  heavy  cheer  they  show  their  inward  grief,  1765 
He  waileth  most  his  wretchedness  that  is  of  wretches  chief. 
When  he  doth  hear  abroad  the  praise  of  ladies  blown,  [own. 
Within  his  thought  he  scorneth  them,  and  doth  prefer  his 
When  pleasant  songs  he  hears,  while  others  do  rejoice, 
The  melody  of  music  doth  stir  up  his  mourning  voice. 
But  if  in  secret  place  he  walk  somewhere  alone,  I77I 

The  place  itself  and  secretness  redoubleth  all  his  moan. 
Then  speaks  he  to  the  beasts,  to  feathered  fowls  and  trees, 
Unto  the  earth,  the  clouds,  and  to  whatso  beside  he  sees. 
To  them  he  shew'th  his  smart,  as  though  they  reason  had. 
Each  thing  may  cause  his  heaviness,  but  nought  may  make 
And,  weary  of  the  day,  again  he  calleth  night,       [him  glad, 
The  sun  he  curseth,  and  the  hour  when  first  his  eyes  saw  light. 
And  as  the  night  and  day  their  course  do  interchange,  1779 
So  doth  our  Romeus'  nightly  cares  for  cares  of  day  exchange. 

In  absence  of  her  knight  the  lady  no  way  could       [would  ; 
Keep  truce  between  her  griefs  and  her,  though  ne'er  so  fain  she 
And  though  with  greater  pain  she  cloaked  sorrow's  smart, 
Yet  did  her  paled  face  disclose  the  passions  of  her  heart. 
Her  sighing  every  hour,  her  weeping  everywhere,          1785 
Her  reckless  heed  of  meat,  of  sleep,  and  wearing  of  her  gear,. 
The  careful  mother  marks ;  then  of  her  health  afraid, 
Because  the  griefs  increased  still,  thus  to  her  child  she  said : 

'  Dear  daughter,  if  you  should  long  languish  in  this  sort, 
I  stand  in  doubt  that  oversoon  your  sorrows  will  make  short 
Your  loving  father's  life  and  mine,  that  love  you  more      [fore 
Than  our  own  proper  breath  and  life.    Bridle  henceforth  there- 


ROMEUS  AND  JULIET  67 

Your  grief  and  pain,  yourself  on  joy  your  thought  to  set, 
For  time  it  is  that  now  you  should  our  Tybalt's  death  forget. 
Of  whom  since  God  hath  claimed  the  life  that  was  but  lent, 
He  is  in  bliss,  ne  is  there  cause  why  you  should  thus  lament. 
You  can  not  call  him  back  with  tears  and  shriekings  shrill : 
It  is  a  fault  thus  still  to  grudge  at  God's  appointed  will.' 
The  seely  soul  had  now  no  longer  power  to  feign, 
No  longer  could  she  hide  her  harm,  but  answered  thus  again, 
With  heavy  broken  sighs,  with  visage  pale  and  dead :    1801 

*  Madam,  the  last  of  Tybalt's  tears  a  great  while  since  I 
Whose  spring  hath  been  ere  this  so  laded  out  by  me,  [shed ; 
That  empty  quite  and  moistureless  1  guess  it  now  to  be. 
So  that  my  pained  heart  by  conduits  of  the  eyne        [brine.' 
No  more  henceforth,  as  wont  it  was,  shall  gush  forth  dropping 
The  woeful  mother  knew  not  what  her  daughter  meant, 
And  loth  to  vex  her  child  by  words,  her  peace  she  warely  hent. 
But  when  from  hour  to  hour,  from  morrow  to  the  morrow, 
Still  more  and  more  she  saw  increased  her  daughter's  wonted 
sorrow,  1 8 1  o 

All  means  she  sought  of  her  and  household  folk  to  know 
The  certain  root  whereon  her  grief  and  bootless  moan  doth 
But  lo,  she  hath  in  vain  her  time  and  labour  lore,       [grow. 
Wherefore  without  all  measure  is  her  heart  tormented  sore. 
And  sith  herself  could  not  find  out  the  cause  of  care, 
She  thought  it  good  to  tell  the  sire  how  ill  his  child  did  fare. 
And  when  she  saw  her  time,  thus  to  her  fere  she  said : 

'  Sir,  if  you  mark  our  daughter  well,  the  countenance  of 
the  maid,  1818 


68  ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 

And  how  she  fareth  since  that  Tybalt  unto  death, 
Before  his  time,  forced  by  his  foe,  did  yield  his  living  breath, 
Her  face  shall  seem  so  changed,  her  doings  eke  so  strange, 
That  you  will  greatly  wonder  at  so  great  and  sudden  change. 
Not  only  she  forbears  her  meat,  her  drink,  and  sleep, 
But  now  she  tendeth  nothing  else  but  to  lament  and  weep. 
No  greater  joy  hath  she,  nothing  contents  her  heart 
So  much  as  in  the  chamber  close  to  shut  herself  apart ; 
Where  she  doth  so  torment  her  poor  afflicted  mind,      1825 
That  much  in  danger  stands  her  life,  except  some  help  we  find. 
But,  out,  alas,  I  see  not  how  it  may  be  found,          [abound. 
Unless  that  first  we  might  find  whence  her  sorrows  thus 
For  though  with  busy  care  I  have  employed  my  wit,     1831 
And  used  all  the  ways  I  knew  to  learn  the  truth  of  it, 
Neither  extremity  ne  gentle  means  could  boot ; 
She  hideth  close  within  her  breast  her  secret  sorrow's  root. 
This  was  my  first  conceit,  that  all  her  ruth  arose  1835 

Out  of  her  cousin  Tybalt's  death,  late  slain  of  deadly  foes ; 
But  now  my  heart  doth  hold  a  new  repugnant  thought ; 
Some  greater  thing,  not  Tybalt's  death,  this  change  in  her 
Herself  assured  me  that  many  days  ago  [hath  wrought. 

She  shed  the  last  of  Tybalt's  tears ;  which  word  amazed  me  so 
That  I  then  could  not  guess  what  thing  else  might  her  grieve  ; 
But  now  at  length  I  have  bethought  me ;  and  I  do  believe 
The  only  crop  and  root  of  all  my  daughter's  pain 
Is  grudging  envy's  faint  disease :  perhaps  she  doth  disdain 
To  see  in  wedlock  yoke  the  most  part  of  her  feres,         1 845 
Whilst  only  she  unmarried  doth  lose  so  many  years. 


ROMEUS  AND  JULIET  69 

And  more  perchance  she  thinks  you  mind  to  keep  her  so ; 
Wherefore  despairing  doth  she  wear  herself  away  with  woe. 
Therefore,  dear  sir,  in  time  take  on  your  daughter  ruth ; 
For  why,  a  brickie  thing  is  glass,  and  frail  is  frailless  youth. 
Join  her  at  once  to  some  in  link  of  marriage,  1851 

That  may  be  meet  for  our  degree,  and  much  about  her  age  : 
So  shall  you  banish  care  out  of  your  daughter's  breast, 
So  we  her  parents,  in  our  age,  shall  live  in  quiet  rest.' 
Whereto  'gan  easily  her  husband  to  agree,  [he  : 

And  to  the  mother's  skilful  talk  thus  straightway  answered 
'Oft  have  I  thought,  dear  wife,  of  all  these  things  ere  this, 
But  evermoie  my  mind  me  gave,  it  should  not  be  amiss 
By  farther  leisure  had  a  husband  to  provide ; 
Scarce  saw  she  yet  full  sixteen  years :  too  young  to  be  a  bride ! 
But  since  her  state  doth  stand  on  terms  so  perilous,       1861 
And  that  a  maiden  daughter  is  a  treasure  dangerous, 
With  so  great  speed  I  will  endeavour  to  procure 
A  husband  for  our  daughter  young,  her  sickness  faint  to  cure, 
That  you  shall  rest  content,  so  warely  will  I  choose,      1865 
And  she  recover  soon  enough  the  time  she  seems  to  lose. 
The  whilst  seek  you  to  learn,  if  she  in  any  part 
Already  hath,  unware  to  us,  fixed  her  friendly  heart ; 
Lest  we  have  more  respect  to  honour  and  to  wealth, 
Than  to  our  daughter's  quiet  life,  and  to  her  happy  health ; 
Whom  I  do  hold  as  dear  as  th'  apple  of  mine  eye,          1871 
And  rather  wish  in  poor  estate  and  daughterless  to  die, 
Than  leave  my  goods  and  her  y-thralled  to  such  a  one,  [moan.* 
Whose  churlish  dealing,  I  once  dead,  should  be  her  cause  of 


70  ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 

This  pleasant  answer  heard,  the  lady  parts  again,       1875 
And  Capulet,  the  maiden's  sire,  within  a  day  or  twain, 
Conferreth  with  his  friends  for  marriage  of  his  daughter, 
And  many  gentlemen  there  were  with  busy  care  that  sought 
Both  for  the  maiden  was  well  shaped,  young,  and  fair,  [her  ; 
As  also  well  brought  up,  and  wise ;  her  father's  only  heir. 
Among  the  rest  was  one  inflamed  with  her  desire,         1881 
Who  County  Paris  cleped  was ;  an  earl  he  had  to  sire. 
Of  all  the  suitors  him  the  father  liketh  best, 
And  easily  unto  the  earl  he  maketh  his  behest, 
Both  of  his  own  good  will,  and  of  his  friendly  aid,        1885 
To  win  his  wife  unto  his  will,  and  to  persuade  the  maid. 
The  wife  did  joy  to  hear  the  joyful  husband  say  [day  ; 

How  happy  hap,  how  meet  a  match,  he  had  found  out  that 
Ne  did  she  seek  to  hide  her  joys  within  her  heart, 
But  straight  she  hieth  to  Juliet ;  to  her  she  tells,  apart, 
What  happy  talk,  by  mean  of  her,  was  past  no  rather    1891 
Between  the  wooing  Paris  and  her  careful,  loving  father. 
The  person  of  the  man,  the  features  of  his  face,  [grace, 

His  youthful  years,  his  fairness,  and  his  port,  and  seemly 
With  curious  words  she  paints  before  her  daughter's  eyes,  [skies. 
And  then  with  store  of  virtue's  praise  she  heaves  him  to  the 
She  vaunts  his  race,  and  gifts  that  Fortune  did  him  give, 
Whereby,  she  saith,  both  she  and  hers  in  great  delight  shall 
When  Juliet  conceived  her  parents'  whole  intent,  [live. 
Whereto  both  love  and  reason's  right  forbode  her  to  assent, 
Within  herself  she  thought,  rather  than  be  forsworn,  1901 
With  horses  wild  her  tender  parts  asunder  should  be  torn. 


ROMEUS  AND  JULIET  71 

Not  now,  with  bashful  brow,  in  wonted  wise,  she  spake, 
But  with  unwonted  boldness  straight  into  these  words  she 

brake  : 

'  Madam,  I  marvel  much  that  you  so  lavas  are 
Of  me  your  child,  your  jewel  once,  your  only  joy  and  care, 
As  thus  to  yield  me  up  at  pleasure  of  another, 
Before  you  know  if  I  do  like  or  else  mislike  my  lover. 
Do  what  you  list,  but  yet  of  this  assure  you  still, 
If  you  do  as  you  say  you  will,  I  yield  not  there  until.    1910 
For  had  I  choice  of  twain,  far  rather  would  I  choose 
My  part  of  all  your  goods  and  eke  my  breath  and  life  to  lose* 
Than  grant  that  he  possess  of  me  the  smallest  part ; 
First,  weary  of  my  painful  life,  my  cares  shall  kill  my  heart, 
Else  will  I  pierce  my  breast  with  sharp  and  bloody  knife ; 
And  you,  my  mother,  shall  become  the  murd'ress  of  my  life, 
In  giving  me  to  him  whom  I  ne  can,  ne  may,  ^917 

Ne  ought,  to  love :  wherefore  on  knees,  dear  mother,  I  you 
To  let  me  live  henceforth,  as  I  have  lived  tofore ;        [pray, 
Cease  all  your  troubles  for  my  sake,  and  care  for  me  no  more  ; 
But  suffer  Fortune  fierce  to  work  on  me  her  will,          1921 
In  her  it  lieth  to  do  me  boot,  in  her  it  lieth  to  spill. 
For  whilst  you  for  the  best  desire  to  place  me  so, 
You  haste  away  my  ling'ring  death,  and  double  all  my  woe. 

So  deep  this  answer  made  the  sorrows  down  to  sink 
Into  the  mother's  breast,  that  she  ne  knoweth  what  to  think 
Of  these  her  daughter's  words,  but  all  appalled  she  stands, 
And  up  unto  the  heavens  she  throws  her  wond'ring  head 

and  hands.  1928 


72  ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 

And,  nigh  beside  herself,  her  husband  hath  she  sought ; 
She  tells  him  all ;  she  doth  forget  ne  yet  she  hideth  aught. 
The  testy  old  man,  wroth,  disdainful  without  measure, 
Sends  forth  his  folk  in  haste  for  her,  and  bids  them  take  no 
Ne  on  her  tears  or  plaint  at  all  to  have  remorse,          [leisure  : 
But,  if  they  cannot  with  her  will,  to  bring  the  maid  perforce. 
The  message  heard,  they  part,  to  fetch  that  they  must  fet, 
And  willingly  with  them  walks  forth  obedient  Juliet.    1936 
Arrived  in  the  place,  when  she  her  father  saw, 
Of  whom,  as  much  as  duty  would,  the  daughter  stood  in  awe, 
The  servants  sent  away,  (the  mother  thought  it  meet,) 
The  woeful  daughter  all  bewept  fell  grovelling  at  his  feet, 
Which  she  doth  wash  with  tears  as  she  thus  grovelling  lies — 
So  fast,  and  eke  so  plenteously  distil  they  from  her  eyes : 
When  she  to  call  for  grace  her  mouth  doth  think  to  open, 
Muet  she  is — for  sighs  and  sobs  her  fearful  talk  have  broken. 

The  sire,  whose  swelling  wrath  her  tears  could  not  assuage, 
With  fiery  eyne,  and  scarlet  cheeks,  thus  spake  her  in  his  rage, 
Whilst  ruthfully  stood  by  the  maiden's  mother  mild  :  1947 

'Listen,' quoth  he, 'unthankful  and  thou  disobedient  child, 
Hast  thou  so  soon  let  slip  out  of  thy  mind  the  word 
That  thou  so  oftentimes  hast  heard  rehearsed  at  my  board  ? 
How  much  the  Roman  youth  of  parents  stood  in  awe, 
And  eke  what  power  upon  their  seed  the  fathers  had  by 
Whom  they  not  only  might  pledge,  alienate,  and  sell,     [law  ? 
Whenso  they  stood  in  need,  but  more,  if  children  did  rebel, 
The  parents  had  the  power  of  life  and  sudden  death.     1955 
What  if  those  goodmen  should  again  receive  the  living  breath, 


ROMEUS  AND  JULIET  73 

In  how  strait  bonds  would  they  thy  stubborn  body  bind  ? 
What  weapons  would  they  seek  for  thee?   what  torments 

would  they  find  ? 

To  chasten,  if  they  saw,  the  lewdness  of  thy  life, 
Thy  great  unthankfulness  to  me,  and  shameful  sturdy  strife  ? 
Such  care  thy  mother  had,  so  dear  thou  wert  to  me,      1961 
That  I  with  long  and  earnest  suit  provided  have  for  thee 
One  of  the  greatest  lords  that  wones  about  this  town, 
And  for  his  many  virtues'  sake  a  man  of  great  renown. 
Of  whom  both  thou  and  I  unworthy  are  too  much,       1965 
So  rich  ere  long  he  shall  be  left,  his  father's  wealth  is  such, 
Such  is  the  nobleness  and  honour  of  the  race  [case 

From  whence  his  father  came :  and  yet,  thou  playest  in  this 
The  dainty  fool,  and  stubborn  girl ;  for  want  of  skill     1969 
Thou  dost  refuse  thy  offered  weal,  and  disobey  my  will. 
Even  by  His  strength  I  swear,  that  first  did  give  me  life, 
And  gave  me  in  my  youth  the  strength  to  get  thee  on  my 
Unless  by  Wednesday  next  thou  bend  as, I  ani_bent,     [wife, 
And  at  our  castle  called  Freetown  thou  freely  do  assent 
To  County  Paris'  suit,  and  promise  to  agree  J975 

To  whatsoever  then  shall  pass  'twixt  him,  my  wife,  and  me, 
Not  only  will  I  give  all  that  I  have  away 
From  thee,  to  those  that  shall  me  love,  me  honour,  and  obey, 
But  also  to  so  close  and  to  so  hard  a  gaol 
I  shall  thee  wed,  for  all  thy  life,  that  sure  thou  shalt  not  fail 
A  thousand  times  a  day  to  wish  for  sudden  death,          1981 
And  curse  the  day  and  hour  when  first  thy  lungs  did  give 

thee  breath. 


74  ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 

Advise  thee  well,  and  say  that  thou  art  warned  now, 
And  think  not  that  I  speak  in  sport,  or  mind  to  break  my  vow. 
For  were  it  not  that  I  to  County  Paris  gave  19%5 

My  faith,  which  I  must  keep  unfalsed,  my  honour  so  to  save, 
Ere  thou  go  hence,  myself  would  see  thee  chastened  so,  [know  ; 
That  thou  should'st  once  for  all  be  taught  thy  duty  how  to 
And  what  revenge  of  old  the  angry  sires  did  find  [kind/ 
Against  their  children  that  rebelled  and  showed  themself  un- 

These  said,  the  old  man  straight  is  gone  in  haste  away, 
Ne  for  his  daughter's  answer  would  the  testy  father  stay. 
And  after  him  his  wife  doth  follow  out  of  door,          [floor  : 
And  there  they  leave  their  chidden  child  kneeling  upon  the 
Then  she  that  oft  had  seen  the  fury  of  her  sire,  1995 

Dreading  what  might  come  of  his  rage,  nould  farther  stir  his 
Unto  her  chamber  she  withdrew  herself  apart,  [ire. 

Where  she  was  wonted  to  unload  the  sorrows  of  her  heart. 
There  did  she  not  so  much  busy  her  eyes  in  sleeping, 
As  overpressed  with  restless  thoughts  in  piteous  bootless  weep- 
The  fast  falling  of  tears  make  not  her  tears  decrease,      [ing, 
Ne,  by  the  pouring  forth  of  plaint,  the  cause  of  plaint  doth 
So  that  to  th'end  the  moan  and  sorrow  may  decay,     [cease. 
The  best  is  that  she  seek  some  mean  to  take  the  cause  away. 
Her  weary  bed  betime  the  woeful  wight  forsakes,          2005 
And  to  Saint  Francis*  church  to  mass  her  way  devoutly  takes. 
The  friar  forth  is  called ;  she  prays  him  hear  her  shrift ; 
Devotion  is  in  so  young  years  a  rare  and  precious  gift. 
When  on  her  tender  knees  the  dainty  lady  kneels, 
In  mind  to  pour  forth  all  the  grief  that  inwardly  she  feels, 


ROMEUS  AND  JULIET  75 

With  sighs  and  salted  tears  her  shriving  doth  begin,      201 1 
For  she  of  heaped  sorrows  hath  to  speak,  and  not  of  sin. 
Her  voice  with  piteous  plaint  was  made  already  hoarse, 
And  hasty  sobs,  when  she  would  speak,  brake  off  her  words  per- 
But  as  she  may,  piece-meal,  she  poureth  in  his  lap       [force. 
The  marriage  news,  a  mischief  new,  prepared  by  mishap, 
Her  parents'  promise  erst  to  County  Paris  past, 
Her  father's  threats  she  telleth  him,  and  thus  concludes  at  last : 
'  Once  was  I  wedded  well,  ne  will  I  wed  again ; 
For  since  I  know  I  may  not  be  the  wedded  wife  of  twain, 
For  I  am  bound  to  have  one  God,  one  faith,  one  make,    202 1 
My  purpose  is  as  soon  as  I  shall  hence  my  journey  take, 
With  these  two  hands,  which  joined  unto  the  heavens  I  stretch, 
The  hasty  death  which  I  desire,  unto  myself  to  reach. 
This  day,  O  Romeus,  this  day  thy  woeful  wife  2025 

Will  bring  the  end  of  all  her  cares  by  ending  careful  life. 
So  my  departed  sprite  shall  witness  to  the  sky, 
And  eke  my  blood  unto  the  earth  bear  record,  how  that  I 
Have  kept  my  faith  unbroke,  steadfast  unto  my  friend.' 

When  this  her  heavy  tale  was  told,  her  vow  eke  at  an  end, 
Her  gazing  here  and  there,  her  fierce  and  staring  look, 
Did  witness  that  some  lewd  attempt  her  heart  had  undertook. 
Whereat  the  friar  astound,  and  ghastfully  afraid  .  2033 

Lest  she  by  deed  perform  her  word,  thus  much  to  her  he  said  : 

'Ah,  Lady  Juliet,  what  need  the  words  you  spake? 
I  pray  you,  grant  me  one  request,  for  blessed  Mary's  sake. 
Measure  somewhat  your  grief,  hold  here  awhile  your  peace ; 
Whilst  1  bethink  me  of  your  case,  your  plaint  and  sorrows  cease. 


76  ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 

Such  comfort  will  I  give  you,  ere  you  part  from  hence, 
And  for  th'  assaults  of  Fortune's  ire  prepare  so  sure  defence, 
So  wholesome  salve  will  I  for  your  afflictions  find,         2041 
That  you  shall  hence  depart  again  with  well  contented  mind.' 

His  words  have  chased  straight  out  of  her  heart  despair, 
Her  black  and  ugly  dreadful  thoughts  by  hope  are  waxen  fair. 
So  Friar  Laurence  now  hath  left  her  there  alone,          2045 
And  he  out  of  the  church  in  haste  is  to  his  chamber  gone ; 
Where  sundry  thoughts  within  his  careful  head  arise ; 
The  old  man's  foresight  divers  doubts  hath  set  before  his  eyes, 
His  conscience  one  while  condemns  it  for  a  sin 
To  let  her  take  Paris  to  spouse,  since  he  himself  had  bin 
The  chiefest  cause,  that  she  unknown  to  father  or  mother, 
Not  five  months  pastr  in  that  self  place  was  wedded  to  another. 
Another  while  an  hugy  heap  of  dangers  dread 
His  restless  thought  hath  heaped  up  within  his  troubled  head. 
Even  of  itself  th' attempt  he  judgeth  perilous ;  205  5 

The  execution  eke  he  deems  so  much  more  dangerous, 
That  to  a  woman's  grace  he  must  himself  commit, 
That  young  is,  simple  and  unware,  for  weighty  affairs  unfit ; 
For  if  she  fail  in  aught,  the  matter  published, 
Both  she  and  Romeus  were  undone,  himself  eke  punished. 
When  to  and  fro  in  mind  he  divers  thoughts  had  cast,  2061 
With  tender  pity  and  with  ruth  his  heart  was  won  at  last ; 
He  thought  he  rather  would  in  hazard  set  his  fame, 
Than  suffer  such  adultery.     Resolving  on  the  same, 
Out  of  his  closet  straight  he  took  a  little  glass,  2065 

And  then  with  double  haste  returned  where  woeful  Juliet  was ; 


ROMEUS  AND  JULIET  77 

Whom  he  hath  found  well-nigh  in  trance,  scarce  drawing 
Attending  still  to  hear  the  news  of  life  or  else  of  death,  [breath, 
Of  whom  he  did  enquire  of  the  appointed  day  : 

*  On  Wednesday  next,'  quod  Juliet, '  so  doth  my  father  say, 
I  must  give  my  consent ;  but,  as  I  do  remember,  2071 

The  solemn  day  of  marriage  is  the  tenth  day  of  September.' 

'  Dear  daughter,'  quoth  the  friar,  *  of  good  cheer  see  thou  be, 
For  lo,  Saint  Francis  of  his  grace  hath  showed  a  way  to  me, 
By  which  I  may  both  thee  and  Romeus  together  2075 

Out  of  the  bondage  which  you  fear  assuredly  deliver. 
Even  from  the  holy  font  thy  husband  have  I  known, 
And,  since  he  grew  in  years,  have  kept  his  counsels  as  mine 
For  from  his  youth  he  would  unfold  to  me  his  heart,  [own. 
And  often  have  I  cured  him  of  anguish  and  of  smart ;  2080 
I  know  that  by  desert  his  friendship  I  have  won, 
And  I  him  hold  as  dear  as  if  he  were  my  proper  son. 
Wherefore  my  friendly  heart  cannot  abide  that  he 
Should  wrongfully  in  aught  be  harmed,  if  that  it  lay  in  me 
To  right  or  to  revenge  the  wrong  by  my  advice,  2085 

Or  timely  to  prevent  the  same  in  any  other  wise. 
And  sith  thou  art  his  wife,  thee  am  I  bound  to  love, 
For  Romeus' friendship's  sake,  and  seek  thy  anguish  to  remove, 
And  dreadful  torments,  which  thy  heart  besiegen  round ; 
Wherefore,  my  daughter,  give  good  ear  unto  my  counsels  sound. 
Forget  not  what  I  say,  ne  tell  it  any  wight,  209 1 

Not  to  the  nurse  thou  trustest  so,  as  Romeus  is  thy  knight ; 
For  on  this  thread  doth  hang  thy  death  and  eke  thy  life, 
My  fame  or  shame,  his  weal  or  woe  that  chose  thee  to  his  wife. 


78  ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 

Thou  art  not  ignorant — because  of  such  renown  2O95 

As  everywhere  is  spread  of  me,  but  chiefly  in  this  town — 

That  in  my  youthful  days  abroad  I  travelled, 

Through  every  land  found  out  by  men,  by  men  inhabited ; 

So  twenty  years  from  home,  in  lands  unknown  a  guest, 

I  never  gave  my  weary  limbs  long  time  of  quiet  rest,    2100 

But  in  the  desert  woods,  to  beasts  of  cruel  kind, 

Or  on  the  seas  to  drenching  waves,  at  pleasure  of  the  wind, 

I  have  committed  them,  to  ruth  of  rover's  hand, 

And  to  a  thousand  dangers  more,  by  water  and  by  land. 

But  not  in  vain,  my  child,  hath  all  my  wand'ring  bin ; 

Beside  the  great  contentedness  my  sprite  abideth  in,      2106 

That  by  the  pleasant  thought  of  passed  things  doth  grow, 

One  private  fruit  more  have  I  plucked,  which  thou  shalt 

shortly  know : 

What  force  the  stones,  the  plants,  and  metals  have  to  work, 
And  divers  other  things  that  in  the  bowels  of  earth  do  lurk, 
With  care  I  have  sought  out,  with  pain  I  did  them  prove ; 
With  them  eke  can  I  help  myself  at  times  of  my  behove, — 
Although  the  science  be  against  the  laws  of  men, — 
When  sudden  danger  forceth  me  ;  but  yet  most  chiefly  when 
The  work  to  do  is  least  displeasing  unto  God,  2115 

Not  helping  to  do  any  sin  that  wreakful  Jove  forbode. 
For  since  in  life  no  hope  of  long  abode  I  have, 
But  now  am  come  unto  the  brink  of  my  appointed  grave, 
And  that  my  death  draws  near,  whose  stripe  I  may  not 

shun,  2119 

But  shall  be  called  to  make  account  of  all  that  I  have  done, 


ROMEUS  AND  JULIET  79 

Now  ought  I  from  henceforth  more  deeply  print  in  mind 
The  judgment  of  the  Lord,  than  when  youth's  folly  made  me 
When  love  and  fond  desire  were  boiling  in  my  breast,  [blind, 
Whence  hope  and  dread  by  striving  thoughts  had  banished 

friendly  rest.  2124. 

Know  therefore,  daughter,  that  with  other  gifts  which  I 
Have  well  attained  to,  by  grace  and  favour  of  the  sky, 
Long  since  I  did  find  out,  and  yet  the  way  I  know 
Of  certain  roots  and  savoury  herbs  to  make  a  kind  of  dough 
Which  baked  hard,  and  beat  into  a  powder  fine, 
And  drunk  with  conduit  water,  or  with  any  kind  of  wine, 
It  doth  in  half  an  hour  astonne  the  taker  so,  2131 

And  mast'reth  all  his  senses,  that  he  feeleth  weal  nor  woe : 
And  so  it  burieth  up  the  sprite  and  living  breath, 
That  even  the  skilful  leech  would  say,  that  he  is  slain  by 

death. 

One  virtue  more  it  hath,  as  marvellous  as  this ;  2I35 

The  taker,  by  receiving  it,  at  all  not  grieved  is ; 
But  painless  as  a  man  that  thinketh  nought  at  all, 
Into  a  sweet  and  quiet  sleep  immediately  doth  fall ; 
From  which,  according  to  the  quantity  he  taketh, 
Longer  or  shorter  is  the  time  before  the  sleeper  waketh ; 
And  thence,  th'  effect  once  wrought,  again  it  doth  restore 
Him  that  received  unto  the  state  wherein  he  was  before. 
Wherefore,  mark  well  the  end  of  this  my  tale  begun,    2143 
And  thereby  learn  what  is  by  thee  hereafter  to  be  done. 
Cast  off  from  thee  at  once  the  weed  of  womanish  dread, 
With  manly  courage  arm  thyself  from  heel  unto  the  head ; 


80  ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 

For  only  on  the  fear  or  boldness  of  thy  breast 
The  happy  hap  or  ill  mishap  of  thy  affair  doth  rest. 
Receive  this  vial  small  and  keep  it  as  thine  eye ;  2 1 49 

And  on  thy  marriage  day,  before  the  sun  do  clear  the  sky, 
Fill  it  with  water  full  up  to  the  very  brim,  [and  limb 

Then  drink  it  off,  and  thou  shalt  feel  throughout  each  vein 
A  pleasant  slumber  slide,  and  quite  dispread  at  length 
On  all  thy  parts,  from  every  part  reave  all  thy  kindly  strength  ; 
Withouten  moving  thus  thy  idle  parts  shall  rest,  2155 

No  pulse  shall  go,  ne  heart  once  beat  within  thy  hollow  breast, 
But  thou  shalt  lie  as  she  that  dieth  in  a  trance :        [chance  ; 
Thy  kinsmen  and  thy  trusty  friends  shall  wail  the  sudden 
Thy  corpse  then  will  they  bring  to  grave  in  this  churchyard, 
Where  thy  forefathers  long  ago  a  costly  tomb  prepared, 
Both  for  themself  and  eke  for  those  that  should  come  after, 
Both  deep  it  is,  and  long  and  large,  where  thou  shalt  rest,  my 
Till  I  to  Mantua  send  for  Romeus,  thy  knight ;    [daughter, 
Out  of  the  tomb  both  he  and  I  will  take  thee  forth  that  night. 
And  when  out  of  thy  sleep  thou  shalt  awake  again,       2165 
Then  may'st  thou  go  with  him  from  hence  ;  and,  healed  of  thy 
In  Mantua  lead  with  him  unknown  a  pleasant  life ;      [pain, 
And  yet  perhaps  in  time  to  come,  when  cease  shall  all  the  strife, 
And  that  the  peace  is  made  'twixt  Romeus  and  his  foes, 
Myself  may  find  so  fit  a  time  these  secrets  to  disclose,    2170 
Both  to  my  praise,  and  to  thy  tender  parents'  joy, 
That  dangerless,  without  reproach,  thou  shalt  thy  love  enjoy.' 

When  of  his  skilful  tale  the  friar  had  made  an  end, 
To  which  our  Juliet  so  well  her  ear  and  wits  did  bend, 


ROMEUS  AND  JULIET  81 

That  she  hath  heard  it  all  and  hath  forgotten  nought,  2175 
Her  fainting  heart  was  comforted  with  hope  and  pleasant 
And  then  to  him  she  said  :  '  Doubt  not  but  that  I  will  [thought, 
With  stout  and  unappalled  heart  your  happy  hest  fulfil. 
Yea,  if  I  wist  it  were  a  venomous  deadly  drink,  [should  sink, 
Rather  would  I  that  through  my  throat  the  certain  bane 
Than  I,  not  drinking  it,  into  his  hands  should  fall,        2181 
That  hath  no  part  of  me  as  yet,  ne  ought  to  have  at  all. 
Much  more  I  ought  with  bold  and  with  a  willing  heart 
To  greatest  danger  yield  myself,  and  to  the  deadly  smart, 
To  come  to  him  on  whom  my  life  doth  wholly  stay,     2185 
That  is  my  only  heart's  delight,  and  so  he  shall  be  aye.J 
*  Then  go,J  quoth  he,  *  my  child,  I  pray  that  God  on  high 
Direct  thy  foot,  and  by  thy  hand  upon  the  way  thee  guie. 
God  grant  he  so  confirm  in  thee  thy  present  will, 
That  no  inconstant  toy  thee  let  thy  promise  to  fulfil.'  2190 

A  thousand  thanks  and  more  our  Juliet  gave  the  friar, 
And  homeward  to  her  father's  house  joyful  she  doth  retire ; 
And  as  with  stately  gait  she  passed  through  the  street, 
She  saw  her  mother  in  the  door,  that  with  her  there  would 
In  mind  to  ask  if  she  her  purpose  yet  did  hold,  [meet, 

In  mind  also,  apart  'twixt  them,  her  duty  to  have  told ; 
Wherefore  with  pleasant  face,  and  with  unwonted  cheer, 
As  soon  as  she  was  unto  her  approached  somewhat  near, 
Before  the  mother  spake,  thus  did  she  first  begin  :          2199 

*  Madam,  at  Saint  Francis*  church  have  I  this  morning  bin, 
Where  I  did  make  abode  a  longer  while,  percase, 
Than  duty  would  ;  yet  have  I  not  been  absent  from  this  place 

G 


82  ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 

So  long  a  while,  without  a  great  and  just  cause  why  ; 

This  fruit  have  I  received  there — my  heart,  erst  like  to  die, 

Is  now  revived  again,  and  my  afflicted  breast,  2205 

Released  from  affliction,  restored  is  to  rest ! 

For  lo,  my  troubled  ghost,  alas,  too  sore  dis-eased, 

By  ghostly  counsel  and  advice  hath  Friar  Laurence  eased  ; 

To  whom  I  did  at  large  discourse  my  former  life, 

And  in  confession  did  I  tell  of  all  our  passed  strife;       2210 

Of  County  Paris'  suit,  and  how  my  lord,  my  sire, 

By  my  ungrate  and  stubborn  strife  I  stirred  unto  ire ; 

But  lo,  the  holy  friar  hath  by  his  ghostly  lore 

Made  me  another  woman  now  than  I  had  been  before. 

By  strength  of  arguments  he  charged  so  my  mind,   [could  find. 

That,  though  I  sought,  no  sure  defence  my  searching  thought 

So  forced  I  was  at  length  to  yield  up  witless  will, 

And  promised  to  be  ordered  by  the  friar's  praised  skill. 

Wherefore,  albeit  I  had  rashly,  long  before, 

The  bed  and  rites  of  marriage  for  many  years  forswore, 

Yet  mother,  now  behold  your  daughter  at  your  will,    2221 

Ready,  if  you  command  her  aught,  your  pleasure  to  fulfil. 

Wherefore  in  humble  wise,  dear  madam,  I  you  pray, 

To  go  unto  my  lord  and  sire,  withouten  long  delay ; 

Of  him  first  pardon  crave  of  faults  already  past,  2225 

And  show  him,  if  it  pleaseth  you,  his  child  is  now  at  last 

Obedient  to  his  just  and  to  his  skilful  hest,  [prest 

And  that  I  will,  God  lending  life,  on  Wednesday  next  be 

To  wait  on  him  and  you,  unto  th'  appointed  place, 

Where  I  will,  in  your  hearing,  and  before  my  father's  face, 


ROMEUS  AND  JULIET  83 

Unto  the  County  give  my  faith  and  whole  assent,          2231 
And  take  him  for  my  lord  and  spouse  ;  thus  fully  am  I  bent ; 
And  that  out  of  your  mind  I  may  remove  all  doubt, 
Unto  my  closet  fare  I  now,  to  search  and  to  choose  out 
The  bravest  garments  and  the  richest  jewels  there,      [wear  ; 
Which,  better  him  to  please,  I  mind  on  Wednesday  next  to 
For  if  I  did  excel  the  famous  Grecian  rape, 
Yet  might  attire  help  to  amend  my  beauty  and  my  shape.' 

The  simple  mother  was  rapt  into  great  delight;         2239 
Not  half  a  word  could  she  bring  forth,  but  in  this  joyful  plight 
With  nimble  foot  she  ran,  and  with  unwonted  pace, 
Unto  her  pensive  husband,  and  to  him  with  pleasant  face 
She  told  what  she  had  heard,  and  praiseth  much  the  friar ; 
And  joyful  tears  ran  down  the  cheeks  of  this  gray-bearded  sire. 
With  hands  and  eyes  heaved  up  he  thanks  God  in  his  heart, 
And  then  he  saith  :  *  This  is  not,  wife,  the  friar's  first  desert ; 
Oft  hath  he  showed  to  us  great  friendship  heretofore,    2247 
By  helping  us  at  needful  times  with  wisdom's  precious  lore. 
In  all  our  commonweal  scarce  one  is  to  be  found 
But  is,  for  some  good  turn,  unto  this  holy  father  bound. 
Oh  that  the  third  part  of  my  goods — I  do  not  feign —    2251 
But  twenty  of  his  passed  years  might  purchase  him  again  ! 
So  much  in  recompense  of  friendship  would  I  give, 
So  much,  in  faith,  his  extreme  age  my  friendly  heart  doth 
grieve.' 

These  said,  the  glad  old  man  from  home  go'th  straight 
abroad,  2255 

And  to  the  stately  palace  hieth  where  Paris  made  abode ; 


84  ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 

Whom  he  desires  to  be  on  Wednesday  next  his  geast, 
At  Freetown,  where  he  minds  to  make  for  him  a  costly  feast. 
But  lo,  the  earl  saith,  such  feasting  were  but  lost, 
And  counsels  him  till  marriage-time  to  spare  so  great  a  cost, 
For  then  he  knoweth  well  the  charges  will  be  great ;    2261 
The  whilst,  his  heart  desireth  still  her  sight,  and  not  his  meat. 
He  craves  of  Capulet  that  he  may  straight  go  see 
Fair  Juliet ;  whereto  he  doth  right  willingly  agree. 
The  mother,  warned  before,  her  daughter  doth  prepare ; 
She  warneth  and  she  chargeth  her  that  in  no  wise  she  spare 
Her  courteous  speech,  her  pleasant  looks,  and  comely  grace, 
But  liberally  to  give  them  forth  when  Paris  comes  in  place : 
Which  she  as  cunningly  could  set  forth  to  the  show, 
As  cunning  craftsmen  to  the  sale  do  set  their  wares  on  row ; 
That  ere  the  County  did  out  of  her  sight  depart,          2271 
So  secretly  unwares  to  him  she  stale  away  his  heart, 
That  of  his  life  and  death  the  wily  wench  had  power. 
And  now  nis  longing  heart  tKinEs  long  IbrTheir  appointed 
And  with  importune  suit  the  parents  doth  he  pray      [hour, 
The  wedlock  knot  to  knit  soon  up,  and  haste  the  marriage  day. 

The  wooer  hath  passed  forth  the  first  day  in  this  sort, 
And  many  other  more  than  this,  in  pleasure  and  disport. 
At  length  the  wished  time  of  long  hoped  delight,      [plight. 
As  Paris  thought,  drew  near;  but  near  approached  heavy 
Against  the  bridal  day  the  parents  did  prepare  2281 

Such  rich  attire,  such  furniture,  such  store  of  dainty  fare, 
That  they  which  did  behold  the  same  the  night  before 
Did  think  and  say,  a  man  could  scarcely  wish  for  any  more. 


ROMEUS  AND  JULIET  85 

Nothing  did  seem  too  dear  ;  the  dearest  things  were  bought ; 
And,  as  the  written  story  saith,  indeed  there  wanted  nought 
That  'longed  to  his  degree,  and  honour  of  his  stock;  2287 
But  Juliet,  the  whilst,  her  thoughts  within  her  breast  did  lock  ; 
Even  from  the  trusty  nurse,  whose  secretness  was  tried, 
The  secret  counsel  of  her  heart  the  nurse-child  seeks  to  hide. 
For  sith,  to  mock  her  Dame,  she  did  not  stick  to  lie,  2291 
She  thought  no  sin  with  show  of  truth  to  blear  her  nurse's 
In  chamber  secretly  the  tale  she  'gan  renew,  [e7e- 

That  at  the  door  she  told  her  dame,  as  though  it  had  been 
The  flatt'ring  nurse  did  praise  the  friar  for  his  skill,      [true. 
And  said  that  she  had  done  right  well  by  wit  to  order  will. 
She  setteth  forth  at  large  the  father's  furious  rage,          2297 
And  eke  she  praiseth  much  to  her  the  second  marriage ; 
And  County  Paris  now  she  praiseth  ten  times  more,  [before. 
By  wrong,  than  she  herself,  by  right,  had  Romeus  praised 
Paris  shall  dwell  there  still,  Romeus  shall  not  return ;    2301 
What  shall  it  boot  her  life  to  languish  still  and  mourn  ? 
The  pleasures  past  before  she  must  account  as  gain  ; 
But  if  he  do  return,  what  then  ? — for  one  she  shall  have  twain. 
The  one  shall  use  her  as  his  lawful  wedded  wife,  2305 

In  wanton  love  with  equal  joy  the  other  lead  his  life ; 
And  best  shall  she  be  sped  of  any  townish  dame, 
Of  husband  and  of  paramour  to  find  her  change  of  game. 
These  words  and  like  the  nurse  did  speak,  in  hope  to  please, 
But  greatly  did  these  wicked  words  the  lady's  mind  dis-ease ; 
But  aye  she  hid  her  wrath,  and  seemed  well  content,    2311 
When  daily  did  the  naughty  nurse  new  arguments  invent. 


86  ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 

But  when  the  bride  perceived  her  hour  approached  near, 
She  sought,  the  best  she  could,  to  feign,  and  tempered  so  her 
That  by  her  outward  look  no  living  wight  could  guess  [cheer, 
Her  inward  woe ;  and  yet  anew  renewed  is  her  distress. 
Unto  her  chamber  doth  the  pensive  wight  repair,         [stair. 
And  in  her  hand  a  percher  light  the  nurse  bears  up  the 
In  Juliet's  chamber  was  her  wonted  use  to  lie ;  [descry, 

Wherefore  her  mistress,  dreading  that  she  should  her  work 
As  soon  as  she  began  her  pallet  to  unfold,  2321 

Thinking  to  lie  that  night  where  she  was  wont  to  lie  of  old, 
Doth  gently  pray  her  seek  her  lodging  somewhere  else ; 
And,  lest  she,  crafty,  should  suspect,  a  ready  reason  tells. 
*  Dear  friend/  quoth  she,  *  you  know  to-morrow  is  the  day 
Of  new  contract ;  wherefore,  this  night,  my  purpose  is  to  pray 
Unto  the  heavenly  minds  that  dwell  above  the  skies, 
And  order  all  the  course  of  things  as  they  can  best  devise, 
That  they  so  smile  upon  the  doings  of  to-morrow, 
That  all  the  remnant  of  my  life  may  be  exempt  from  sorrow  : 
Wherefore,  I  pray  you,  leave  me  here  alone  this  night,  2331 
But  see  that  you  to-morrow  come  before  the  dawning  light, 
For  you  must  curl  my  hair,  and  set  on  my  attire/ 
And  easily  the  loving  nurse  did  yield  to  her  desire, 
For  she  within  her  head  did  cast  before  no  doubt ;        2335 
She  little  knew  the  close  attempt  her  nurse-child  went  about. 

The  nurse  departed  once,  the  chamber  door  shut  close, 
Assured  that  no  living  wight  her  doing  might  disclose, 
She  poured  forth  into  the  vial  of  the  friar 
Water,  out  of  a  silver  ewer  that  on  the  board  stood  by  her. 


ROMEUS  AND  JULIET  87 

The  sleepy  mixture  made,  fair  Juliet  doth  it  hide          2341 
Under  her  bolster  soft,  and  so  unto  her  bed  she  hied : 
Where  divers  novel  thoughts  arise  within  her  head, 
And  she  is  so  environed  about  with  deadly  dread, 
That  what  before  she  had  resolved  undoubtedly  234.5 

That  same  she  calleth  into  doubt ;  and  lying  doubtfully, 
Whilst  honest  love  did  strive  with  dread  of  deadly  pain, 
With  hands  y- wrung,  and  weeping' eyes,  thus  gan  she  to  com- 
'  What,  is  there  any  one,  beneath  the  heavens  high,  [plain  : — 
So  much  unfortunate  as  I  ?  so  much  past  hope  as  I  ?      2350 
What,  am  I  not  myself,  of  all  that  yet  were  born,      [scorn  ? 
The  deepest  drenched  in  despair,  and  most  in  Fortune's 
For  lo,  the  world  for  me  hath  nothing  else  to  find, 
Beside  mishap  and  wretchedness  and  anguish  of  the  mind ; 
Since  that  the  cruel  cause  of  my  unhappiness  [distress, 

Hath  put  me  to  this  sudden  plunge,  and  brought  to  such 
As,  to  the  end  I  may  my  name  and  conscience  save,      2357 
I  must  devour  the  mixed  drink  that  by  me  here  I  have, 
Whose  working  and  whose  force  as  yet  I  do  not  know.' 
And  of  this  piteous  plaint  began  another  doubt  to  grow : 
'  What  do  I  know/  quoth  she,  *  if  that  this  powder  shall 
Sooner  or  later  than  it  should,  or  else,  not  work  at  all  ?  2362 
And  then  my  craft  descried  as  open  as  the  day, 
The  people's  tale  and  laughing-stock  shall  I  remain  for  aye/ 
*  And  what  know  I,'  quoth  she,  '  if  serpents  odious, 
And  other  beasts  and  worms  that  are  of  nature  venomous, 
That  wonted  are  to  lurk  in  dark  caves  underground,  [found, 
And  commonly,  as  I  have  heard,  in  dead  men's  tombs  are 


88  ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 

Shall  harm  me,  yea  or  nay,  where  I  shall  lie  as  dead  ? — 
Or  how  shall  I  that  alway  have  in  so  fresh  air  been  bred, 
Endure  the  lothsome  stink  of  such  an  heaped  store        2371 
Of  carcases  not  yet  consumed,  and  bones  that  long  before 
Intombed  were,  where  I  my  sleeping-place  shall  have, 
Where  all  my  ancestors  do  rest,  my  kindred's  common  grave  ? 
Shall  not  the  friar  and  my  Romeus,  when  they  come, 
Find  me,  if  I  awake  before,  y-stifled  in  the  tomb?'       2376 
And  whilst  she  in  these  thoughts  doth  dwell  somewhat  too 
The  force  of  her  imagining  anon  did  wax  so  strong,    [long, 
That  she  surmised  she  saw,  out  of  the  hollow  vault, 
A  grisly  thing  to  look  upon,  the  carcase  of  Tybalt ;        2380 
Right  in  the  selfsame  sort  that  she  few  days  before        [sore. 
Had  seen  him  in  his  blood  embrued,  to  death  eke  wounded 
And  then  when  she  again  within  herself  had  weighed 
That  quick  she  should  be  buried  there,  and  by  his  side  be  laid, 
All  comfortless,  for  she  shall  living  fere  have  none,        2385 
But  many  a  rotten  carcase,  and  full  many  a  naked  bone ; 
Her  dainty  tender  parts  7gan  shiver  all  for  dread, 
Her  golden  hairs  did  stand  upright  upon  her  chillish  head. 
Then  pressed  with  the  fear  that  she  there  lived  in,  [skin, 

A  sweat  as  cold  as  mountain  ice  pierced  through  her  slender 
That  with  the  moisture  hath  wet  every  part  of  hers:  2391 
And  more  besides,  she  vainly  thinks,  whilst  vainly  thus  she 
A  thousand  bodies  dead  have  compassed  her  about,  [fears, 
And  lest  they  will  dismember  her  she  greatly  stands  in  doubt. 
But  when  she  felt  her  strength  began  to  wear  away,  2395 
By  little  and  little,  and  in  her  heart  her  fear  increased  aye, 


ROMEUS  AND  JULIET  89 

Dreading  that  weakness  might,  or  foolish  cowardice, 

Hinder  the  execution  of  the  purposed  enterprise, 

As  she  had  frantic  been,  in  haste  the  glass  she  caught, 

And  up  she  drank   the   mixture  quite,  withouten   farther 

thought. 

Then  on  her  breast  she  crossed  her  arms  long  and  small, 
And  so,  her  senses  failing  her,  into  a  trance  did  fall.      2402 
And  when  that  Phoebus  bright  heaved  up  his  seemly  head, 
And  from  the  East  in  open  skies  his  glist'ring  rays  dispread, 
The  nurse  unshut  the  door,  for  she  the  key  did  keep, 
And  doubting  she  had  slept  too  long,  she  thought  to  break  her 

sleep ; 

First  softly  did  she  call,  then  louder  thus  did  cry : 
*  Lady,  you  sleep  too  long  ;  the  earl  will  raise  you  by  and  by.' 
But,  well  away,  in  vain  unto  the  deaf  she  calls, 
She  thinks  to  speak  to  Juliet,  but  speaketh  to  the  walls. 
If  all  the  dreadful  noise  that  might  on  earth  be  found,  24  1 1 
Or  on  the  roaring  seas,  or  if  the  dreadful  thunder's  sound 
Had  blown  into  her  ears,  I  think  they  could  not  make 
The  sleeping  wight  before  the  time  by  any  means  awake ; 
So  were  the  sprites  of  life  shut  up,  and  senses  thralled ; 
Wherewith  the  seely  careful  nurse  was  wondrously  appalled. 
She  thought  to  daw  her  now  as  she  had  done  of  old,  [cold ; 
But  lo,  she  found  her  parts  were  stiff  and  more  than  marble 
Neither  at  mouth  nor  nose  found  she  recourse  of  breath ; 
Two  certain  arguments  were  these  of  her  untimely  death. 
Wherefore,  as  one  distraught,  she  to  her  mother  ran,     [can, 
With  scratched  face,  and  hair  betorn,  but  no  word  speak  she 


90  ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 

At  last,  with  much  ado,  '  Dead,'  quoth  she,  '  is  my  child !  * 
'  Now,  out,  alas ! '  the  mother  cried,  and  as  a  tiger  wild,   2424 
Whose  whelps,  whilst  she  is  gone  out  of  her  den  to  prey, 
The  hunter  greedy  of  his  game  doth  kill  or  carry  away ; 
So  raging  forth  she  ran  unto  her  Juliet's  bed, 
And  there  she  found  her  darling  and  her  only  comfort  dead. 
Then  shrieked  she  out  as  loud  as  serve  her  would  her  breath, 
And  then,  that  pity  was  to  hear,  thus  cried  she  out  on  Death  : 
'Ah  cruel  Death/  quoth  she,  'that  thus  against  all  right, 
Hast  ended  my  felicity,  and  robbed  my  heart's  delight, 
Do  now  thy  worst  to  me,  once  wreak  thy  wrath  for  all, 
Even  in  despite  I  cry  to  thee,  thy  vengeance  let  thou  fall. 
Whereto  stay  I,  alas,  since  Juliet  is  gone?  2435 

Whereto  live  I,  since  she  is  dead,  except  to  wail  and  moan  ? 
Alack,  dear  child,  my  tears  for  thee  shall  never  cease ; 
Even  as  my  days  of  life  increase,  so  shall  my  plaint  increase  : 
Such  store  of  sorrow  shall  afflict  my  tender  heart, 
That  deadly  pangs,  when  they  assail  shall  not  augment  my 

smart.' 

Then  'gan  she  so  to  sob,  it  seemed  her  heart  would  brast ; 
And  while  she  crieth  thus,  behold,  the  father  at  the  last, 
The  County  Paris,  and  of  gentlemen  a  rout, 
And  ladies  of  Verona  town  and  country  round  about, 
Both  kindreds  and  allies  thither  apace  have  preast,         2445 
For  by  their  presence  there  they  sought  to  honour  so  the  feast ; 
But  when  the  heavy  news  the  bidden  guests  did  hear, 
So  much  they  mourned,  that  who  had  seen  their  count'nance 

and  their  cheer, 


ROMEUS  AND  JULIET  91 

Might  easily  have  judged  by  that  that  they  had  seen, 
That  day  the  day  of  wrath  and  eke  of  pity  to  have  been. 
But  more  than  all  the  rest  the  father's  heart  was  so       245 1 
Smit  with  the  heavy  news,  and  so  shut  up  with  sudden  woe, 
That  he  ne  had  the  power  his  daughter  to  be-weep,    [keep. 
Ne  yet  to  speak,  but  long  is  forced  his  tears  and  plaint  to 
In  all  the  haste  he  hath  for  skilful  leeches  sent ;  245  5 

And,  hearing  of  her  passed  life,  they  judge  with  one  assent 
The  cause  of  this  her  death  was  inward  care  and  thought ; 
And   then   with   double  force  again   the  doubled  sorrows 
If  ever  there  hath  been  a  lamentable  day,  [wrought. 

A  day  ruthful,  unfortunate  and  fatal,  then  I  say,  2460 

The  same  was  it  in  which  through  Verone  town  was  spread 
The  woeful  news  how  Juliet  was  sterved  in  her  bed. 
For  so  she  was  bemoaned  both  of  the  young  and  old, 
That  it  might  seem  to  him  that  would  the  common  plaint 
That  all  the  commonwealth  did  stand  in  jeopardy  ;  [behold, 
So  universal  was  the  plaint,  so  piteous  was  the  cry.        2466 
For  lo,  beside  her  shape  and  native  beauty's  hue, 
With  which,  like  as  she  grew  in  age,  her  virtues'  praises 
She  was  also  so  wise,  so  lowly,  and  so  mild,  [grew> 

That  even  from  the  hoary  head  unto  the  witless  child,     2470 
She  wan  the  hearts  of  all,  so  that  there  was  not  one, 
Ne  great,  ne  small,  but  did  that  day  her  wretched  state  bemoan. 

Whilst  Juliet  slept,  and  whilst  the  other  weepen  thus, 
Our  Friar  Laurence  hath  by  this  sent  one  to  Romeus, 
A  friar  of  his  house, — there  never  was  a  better,  2475 

He  trusted  him  even  as  himself, — to  whom  he  gave  a  letter, 


92  ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 

In  which  he  written  had  of  everything  at  length,  [strength  ; 

That  passed  'twixt  Juliet  and  him,  and  of  the  powder's 

The  next  night  after  that,  he  willeth  him  to  come 

To  help  to  take  his  Juliet  out  of  the  hollow  tomb,        2480 

For  by  that  time  the  drink,  he  saith,  will  cease  to  work, 

And  for  one  night  his  wife  and  he  within  his  cell  shall  lurk  ; 

Then  shall  he  carry  her  to  Mantua  away, — 

Till  fickle  Fortune  favour  him, — disguised  in  man's  array. 

This  letter  closed  he  sends  to  Romeus  by  his  brother ; 
He  chargeth  him  that  in  no  case  he  give  it  any  other.  2486 
Apace  our  Friar  John  to  Mantua  him  hies ; 
And,  for  because  in  Italy  it  is  a  wonted  guise 
That  friars  in  the  town  should  seldom  walk  alone, 
But  of  their  convent  aye  should  be  accompanied  with  one 
Of  his  profession,  straight  a  house  he  findeth  out,          2491 
In  mind  to  take  some  friar  with  him,  to  walk  the  town  about. 
But  entered  once  he  might  not  issue  out  again, 
For  that  a  brother  of  the  house,  a  day  before  or  twain,  [hate — 
Died  of  the  plague — a  sickness  which  they  greatly  fear  and 
So  were  the  brethren  charged  to  keep  within  their  convent 
Barred  of  their  fellowship  that  in  the  town  do  wone  ;      [gate, 
The  townfolk  eke  commanded  are  the  friar's  house  to  shun, 
Till  they  that  had  the  care  of  health  their  freedom  should 

renew ; 
Whereof,  as  you  shall  shortly  hear,  a  mischief  great  there 

grew.  2500 

The  friar  by  this  restraint,  beset  with  dread  and  sorrow, 
Not  knowing  what  the  letters  held,  deferred  until  the  morrow; 


ROMEUS  AND  JULIET  93 

And  then  he  thought  in  time  to  send  to  Romeus.  [thus, 
But  whilst  at  Mantua  where  he  was,  these  doings  framed 
The  town  of  Juliet's  birth  was  wholly  busied  25°5 

About  her  obsequies,  to  see  their  darling  buried. 
Now  is  the  parents'  mirth  quite  changed  into  moan, 
And  now  to  sorrow  is  returned  the  joy  of  every  one  ;  [change, 
And   now   the  wedding  weeds  for  mourning  weeds  they 
And  Hymene  into  a  dirge  ; — alas !  it  seemeth  strange  :   2510 
Instead  of  marriage  gloves,  now  funeral  gloves  they  have, 
And  whom  they  should  see  married,  they  follow  to  the  grave. 
The  feast  that  should  have  been  of  pleasure  and  of  joy, 
Hath  every  dish  and  cup  filled  full  of  sorrow  and  annoy. 

Now  throughout  Italy  this  common  use  they  have,   2515 
That  all  the  best  of  every  stock  are  earthed  in  one  grave : 
For  every  household,  if  it  be  of  any  fame,  [name  ; 

Doth  build  a  tomb,  or  dig  a  vault,  that  bears  the  household's 
Wherein,  if  any  of  that  kindred  hap  to  die, 
They  are  bestowed  ;  else  in  the  same  no  other  corpse  may  lie. 
The  Capulets  her  corpse  in  such  a  one  did  lay,  2521 

Where  Tybalt,  slain  of  Romeus,  was  laid  the  other  day.; 
Another  use  there  is,  that  whosoever  dies, 
Borne  to  their  church  with  open  face  upon  the  bier  he  lies, 
In  wonted  weed  attired,  not  wrapped  in  winding  sheet. 
So,  as  by  chance  he  walked  abroad,  our  Romeus'  man  did  meet 
His  master's  wife  ;  the  sight  with  sorrow  straight  did  wound 
His  honest  heart ;  with  tears  he  saw  her  lodged  underground. 
And,  for  he  had  been  sent  to  Verone  for  a  spy, 
The  doings  of  the  Capulets  by  wisdom  to  descry,          2530 


94  ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 

And  for  he  knew  her  death  did  touch  his  master  most, 
Alas,  too  soon,  with  heavy  news  he  hied  away  in  post ; 
And  in  his  house  he  found  his  master  Romeus, 
Where  he,  besprent  with  many  tears,  began  to  speak  him  thus : 

'  Sire,  unto  you  of  late  is  chanced  so  great  a  harm,     2535 
That  sure,  except  with  constancy  you  seek  yourself  to  arm, 
I  fear  that  straight  you  will  breathe  out  your  latter  breath, 
And  I,  most  wretched  wight,  shall  be  th'occasion  of  your  death. 
Know,  sir,  that  yesterday,  my  lady  and  your  wife, 
I  wot  not  by  what  sudden  grief,  hath  made  exchange  of  life  ; 
And  for  because  on  earth  she  found  nought  but  unrest,    2541 
In  heaven  hath  she  sought  to  find  a  place  of  quiet  rest ; 
And  with  these  weeping  eyes  myself  have  seen  her  laid 
Within  the  tomb  of  Capulets7 :  and  herewithal  he  stayed. 

This  sudden  message'  sound,  sent  forth  with  sighs  and  tears, 
Our  Romeus  received  too  soon  with  open  listening  ears ; 
And  thereby  hath  sunk  in  such  sorrow  in  his  heart, 
That  lo,  his  sprite  annoyed  sore  with  torment  and  with  smart, 
Was  like  to  break  out  of  his  prison  house  perforce,      [corse. 
And  that  he  might  fly  after  hers,  would  leave  the  massy 
But  earnest  love  that  will  not  fail  him  till  his  end,        2551 
This  fond  and  sudden  fantasy  into  his  head  did  send : 
That  if  near  unto  her  he  offered  up  his  breath,  [death. 

That  then  a  hundred  thousand  parts  more  glorious  were  his 
Eke  should  his  painful  heart  a  great  deal  more  be  eased, 
And  more  also,  he  vainly  thought,  his  lady  better  pleased. 
Wherefore  when  he  his  face  hath  washed  with  water  clean, 
Lest  that  the  stains  of  dried  tears  might  on  his  cheeks  be  seen, 


ROMEUS  AND  JULIET  95 

And  so  his  sorrow  should  of  everyone  be  spied,  2559 

Which  he  with  all  his  care  did  seek  from  everyone  to  hide, 
Straight,  weary  of  the  house,  he  walketh  forth  abroad : 
His  servant,  at  the  master's  hest,  in  chamber  still  abode ; 
And  then  fro  street  to  street  he  wand'reth  up  and  down, 
To  see  if  he  in  any  place  may  find,  in  all  the  town, 
A  salve  meet  for  his  sore,  an  oil  fit  for  his  wound ;     [found. 
And  seeking  long — alack,  too  soon  ! — the  thing  he  sought,  he 

An  apothecary  sat  unbusied  at  his  door, 
Whom  by  his  heavy  countenance  he  guessed  to  be  poor. 
And  in  his  shop  he  saw  his  boxes  were  but  few, 
And  in  his  window,  of  his  wares,  there  was  so  small  a  shew ; 
Wherefore  our  Romeus  assuredly  hath  thought,  2571 

What  by  no  friendship  could  be  got,  with  money  should  be 
For  needy  lack  is  like  the  poor  man  to  compel         [bought ; 
To  sell  that  which  the  city's  law  forbiddeth  him  to  sell. 
Then  by  the  hand  he  drew  the  needy  man  apart,  2575 

And  with  the  sight  of  glitt'ring  gold  inflamed  hath  his  heart : 

'  Take  fifty  crowns  of  gold,'  quoth  he,  '  I  give  them  thee, 
So  that,  before  I  part  from  hence,  thou  straight  deliver  me 
Some  poison  strong,  that  may  in  less  than  half  an  hour 
Kill  him  whose  wretched  hap  shall  be  the  potion  to  devour.' 
The  wretch  by  covetise  is  won,  and  doth  assent  2581 

To  sell  the  thing,  whose  sale  ere  long,  too  late,  he  doth  repent. 
In  haste  he  poison  sought,  and  closely  he  it  bound, 
And  then  began  with  whispering  voice  thus  in  his  ear  to  round  : 
*  Fair  sir,'  quoth  he,  *  be  sure  this  is  the  speeding  gear,  2585 
And  more  there  is  than  you  shall  need  ;  for  half  of  that  is  there 


96  ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 

Will  serve,  I  undertake,  in  less  than  half  an  hour 

To  kill  the  strongest  man  alive ;  such  is  the  poison's  power/ 

Then  Romeus,  somewhat  eased  of  one  part  of  his  care, 
Within  his  bosom  putteth  up  his  dear  unthrifty  ware.  2590 
Returning  home  again,  he  sent  his  man  away 
To  Verone  town,  and  chargeth  him  that  he,  without  delay, 
Provide  both  instruments  to  open  wide  the  tomb, 
And  lights  to  show  him  Juliet ;  and  stay  till  he  shall  come 
Near  to  the  place  whereas  his  loving  wife  doth  rest,      2595 
And  chargeth  him  not  to  bewray  the  dolours  of  his  breast. 
Peter,  these  heard,  his  leave  doth  of  his  master  take ; 
Betime  he  comes  to  town,  such  haste  the  painful  man  did  make : 
And  then  with  busy  care  he  seeketh  to  fulfil, 
But  doth  disclose  unto  no  wight  his  woeful  master's  will. 
Would  God,  he  had  herein  broken  his  master's  hest !     2601 
Would  God,  that  to  the  friar  he  had  disclosed  all  his  breast ! 
But  Romeus  the  while  with  many  a  deadly  thought 
Provoked  much,  hath  caused  ink  and  paper  to  be  brought, 
And  in  few  lines  he  did  of  all  his  love  discourse,  2605 

How  by  the'/riar's  help,  and  by  the  knowledge  of  the  nurse, 
The  wedlock  knot  was  knit,  and  by  what  mean  that  night 
And  many  mo  he  did  enjoy  his  happy  heart's  delight ; 
Where  he  the  poison  bought,  and  how  his  life  should  end ; 
And  so  his  wailful  tragedy  the  wretched  man  hath  penned. 

The  letters  closed  and  sealed,  directed  to  his  sire,         261 1 
He  locketh  in  his  purse,  and  then  a  post-horse  doth  he  hire. 
When  he  approached  near,  he  warely  lighted  down, 
And  even  with  the  shade  of  night  he  entered  Verone  town  ; 


ROMEUS  AND  JULIET  97 

Where  he  hath  found  his  man,  waiting  when  he  should  come, 
With  lantern,  and  with  instruments  to  open  Juliet's  tomb. 

'  Help,  Peter,  help/  quod  he,  *  help  to  remove  the  stone, 
And  straight  when  I  am  gone  fro  thee,  my  Juliet  to  bemoan, 
See  that  thou  get  thee  hence,  and  on  the  pain  of  death 
I  charge  thee  that  thou  come  not  near  while  I  abide  beneath, 
Ne  seek  thou  not  to  let  thy  master's  enterprise,  2621 

Which  he  hath  fully  purposed  to  do,  in  any  wise. 
Take  there  a  letter,  which,  as  soon  as  he  shall  rise, 
Present  it  in  the  morning  to  my  loving  father's  eyes ; 
Which  unto  him,  perhaps,  far  pleasanter  shall  seem,      2625 
Than  either  I  do  mind  to  say,  or  thy  gross  head  can  deem.' 

Now  Peter,  that  knew  not  the  purpose  of  his  heart, 
Obediently  a  little  way  withdrew  himself  apart ; 
And  then  our  Romeus  (the  vault-stone  set  upright), 
Descended  down,  and  in  his  hand  he  bare  the  candle  light. 
And  then  with  piteous  eye  the  body  of  his  wife  2631 

He  'gan  behold,  who  surely  was  the  organ  of  his  life ; 
For  whom  unhappy  now  he  is,  but  erst  was  blissed,  [kissed ; 
He  watered  her  with  tears,  and  then  a  hundred  times  her 
And  in  his  folded  arms  full  straitly  he  her  plight,  2635 

But  no  way  could  his  greedy  eyes  be  filled  with  her  sight : 
His  fearful  hands  he  laid  upon  her  stomach  cold, 
And  them  on  divers  parts  beside  the  woeful  wight  did  hold. 
But  when  he  could  not  find  the  signs  of  life  he  sought, 
Out  of  his  cursed  box  he  drew  the  poison  that  he  bought ; 
Whereof  he  greedily  devoured  the  greater  part,  [heart : 

And  then  he  cried,  with  deadly  sigh  fetched  from  his  mourning 


98  ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 

1  O  Juliet,  of  whom  the  world  unworthy  was,  [pass, 

From  which,  for  world's  unworthiness  thy  worthy  ghost  did 
What  death  more  pleasant  could  my  heart  wish  to  abide 
Than  that  which  here  it  suff'reth  now,  so  near  thy  friendly  side  ? 
Or  else  so  glorious  tomb  how  could  my  youth  have  craved, 
As  in  one  self-same  vault  with  thee  haply  to  be  ingraved  ? 
What  epitaph  more  worth,  or  half  so  excellent, 
To  consecrate  my  memory,  could  any  man  invent,        2650 
As  this  our  mutual  and  our  piteous  sacrifice 
Of  life,  set  light  for  love  ? ' 

But  while  he  talketh  in  this  wise, 

And  thought  as  yet  awhile  his  dolours  to  enforce,       [force ; 
His  tender  heart  began  to  faint,  pressed  with  the  venom's 
Which  little  and  little  'gan  to  overcome  his  heart,         2655 
And  whilst  his  busy  eyne  he  threw  about  to  every  part, 
He  saw,  hard  by  the  corse  of  sleeping  Juliet, 
Bold  Tybalt's  carcase  dead,  which  was  not  all  consumed  yet ; 
To  whom,  as  having  life,  in  this  sort  speaketh  he : 

'  Ah,  cousin  dear,  Tybalt,  whereso  thy  restless  sprite  now  be, 
With  stretched  hands  to  thee  for  mercy  now  I  cry,       2661 
For  that  before  thy  kindly  hour  I  forced  thee  to  die. 
But  if  with  quenched  life  not  quenched  be  thine  ire, 
But  with  revenging  lust  as  yet  thy  heart  be  set  on  fire, 
What  more  amends,  or  cruel  wreak  desirest  thou         [now  ? 
To  see  on  me,  than  this  which  here  is  showed  forth  to  thee 
Who  reft  by  force  of  arms  from  thee  thy  living  breath, 
The  same  with  his  own  hand,  thou  seest,  doth  poison  him 
self  to  death. 


ROMEUS  AND  JULIET  99 

And  for  he  caused  thee  in  tomb  too  soon  to  lie, 

Too  soon  also,  younger  than  thou,  himself  he  layeth  by.'  2670 

These  said,  when  he  'gan  feel  the  poison's  force  prevail, 
And  little  and  little  mastered  life  for  aye  began  to  fail, 
Kneeling  upon  his  knees,  he  said  with  voice  full  low, — 
*  Lord  Christ,  that  so  to  ransom  me  descendedst  long  ago 
Out  of  thy  Father's  bosom,  and  in  the  Virgin's  womb  2675 
Didst  put  on  flesh,  oh,  let  my  plaint  out  of  this  hollow  tomb, 
Pierce  through  the  air,  and  grant  my  suit  may  favour  find ; 
Take  pity  on  my  sinful  and  my  poor  afflicted  mind ! 
For  well  enough  I  know,  this  body  is  but  clay, 
Nought  but  a  mass  of  sin,  too  frail,  and  subject  to  decay.'  2680 
Then  pressed  with  extreme  grief  he  threw  with  so  great  force 
His  overpressed  parts  upon  his  lady's  waited  corse, 
That  now  his  weakened  heart,  weakened  with  torments  past, 
Unable  to  abide  this  pang,  the  sharpest  and  the  last, 
Remained  quite  deprived  of  sense  and  kindly  strength,  2685 
And  so  the  long  imprisoned  soul  hath  freedom  won  at  length. 
Ah  cruel  death,  too  soon,  too  soon  was  this  divorce,  [corse  ! 
'Twixt  youthful  Romeus'  heavenly  sprite,  and  his  fair  earthy 

The  friar  that  knew  what  time  the  powder  had  been  taken, 
Knew  eke  the  very  instant  when  the  sleeper  should  awaken  ; 
But  wondering  that  he  could  no  kind  of  answer  hear    2691 
Of  letters  which  to  Romeus  his  fellow  friar  did  bear, 
Out  of  Saint  Francis'  church  himself  alone  did  fare, 
And  for  the  opening  of  the  tomb  meet  instruments  he  bare. 
Approaching  nigh  the  place  and  seeing  there  the  light,  2695 
Great  horror  felt  he  in  his  heart,  by  strange  and  sudden  sight ; 


ioo  ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 

Till  Peter,  Romeus'  man,  his  coward  heart  made  bold, 
When  of  his  master's  being  there  the  certain  news  he  told  : 

*  There  hath  he  been,'  quoth  he,  '  this  half  hour  at  the 

least, 

And  in  this  time,  I  dare  well  say,  his  plaint  hath  still  increast.' 
Then  both  they  entered  in,  where  they,  alas,  did  find  2701 
The  breathless  corpse  of  Romeus,  forsaken  of  the  mind  : 
Where  they  have  made  such  moan,  as  they  may  best  conceive, 
That  have  with  perfect  friendship  loved,  whose  friend  fierce 

death  did  reave. 

But  whilst  with  piteous  plaint  they  Romeus'  fate_b,e.weqp. 
Anr|hour  too  late  fai^Julietawjtkcd  out  of  sleep  ;  2706 

And  much  amazed  to  see  in  tomb  so  great  a  light, 
She  wist  not  if  she  saw  a  dream,  or  sprite  that  walked  by  night. 
But  coming  to  herself  she  knew  them,  and  said  thus  : 

*  What,  friar  Laurence,  is  it  you  ?  Where  is  my  Romeus  ? ' 
And  then  the  ancient  friar,  that  greatly  stood  in  fear,   271 1 
Lest,  if  they  lingered  over  long  they  should  be  taken  there, 
In  few  plain  words  the  whole  that  was  betid,  he  told, 

And  with  his  finger  showed  his  corpse  out-stretched,  stiff,  and 

cold; 

And  then  persuaded  her  with  patience  to  abide  27l$ 

This  sudden  great  mischance,  and  saith,  that  he  will  soon 
In  some  religious  house  for  her  a  quiet  place,  [provide 

Where  she  may  spend  the  rest  of  life,  and  where  in  time,  per- 

case, 

She  may  with  wisdom's  mean  measure  her  mourning  breast, 
And  unto  her  tormented  soul  call  back  exiled  rest.        2720 


ROMEUS  AND  JULIET  101 

But  lo,  as  soon  as  she  had  cast  her  ruthful  eye 
On  Romeus'  face,  that  pale  and  wan  fast  by  her  side  did  lie, 
Straightway  she  did  unstop  the  conduits  of  her  tears,   [hairs. 
And  out  they  gush  ; — with  cruel  hand  she  tare  her  golden 
But  when  she  neither  could  her  swelling  sorrow  'suage    2725 
Ne  yet  her  tender  heart  abide  her  sickness'  furious  rage, 
Fall'n  on  his  corpse  she  lay,  long  panting  on  his  face, 
And  then  with  all  her  force  and  strength  the  dead  corpse  did 

embrace. 

As  though  with  sighs,  with  sobs,  with  force,  and  busy  pain 
She  would  him  raise,  and  him  restore  from  death  to  life  again  : 
A  thousand  times  she  kissed  his  mouth,  as  cold  as  stone,  273 1 
And  it  unkissed  again  as  oft ;  then  'gan  she  thus  to  moan  : 

'Ah,  pleasant  prop  of  all  my  thoughts,  ah,  only  ground 
Of  all  the  sweet  delights  that  yet  in  all  my  life  I  found, 
Did  such  assured  trust  within  thy  heart  repose,  2735 

That  in  this  place  and  at  this  time,  thy  churchyard  thou  hast 
Betwixt  the  arms  of  me,  thy  perfect-loving  make  ?  [chose 
And  thus  by  means  of  me  to  end  thy  life,  and  for  my  sake  ? 
Even  in  the  flow'ring  of  thy  youth,  when  unto  thee 
Thy  life  most  dear,  as  to  the  most,  and  pleasant  ought  to  be, 
How  could  this  tender  corpse  withstand  the  cruel  fight  2741 
Of  furious  Death,  that  wonts  to  fray  the  stoutest  with  his 

sight  ? 

How  could  thy  dainty  youth  agree  with  willing  heart, 
In  this  so  foul-infected  place  to  dwell,  where  now  thou  art  ? 
Where  spiteful  Fortune  hath  appointed  thee  to  be        2745 
The  dainty  food  of  greedy  worms,  unworthy,  sure,  of  thee. 


102  ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 

Alas,  alas,  alas,  what  needed  now  anew 
My  wonted  sorrows,  doubled  twice,  again  thus  to  renew  ? 
Which  both  the  time  and  eke  my  patient  long  abode 
Should  now  at  length  have  quenched  quite,  and  under  foot 

have  trode  ?  275° 

Ah,  wretch  and  caitive  that  I  am,  even  when  I  thought 
To  find  my  painful  passion's  salve,  I  missed  the  thing  I  sought ; 
And  to  my  mortal  harm  the  fatal  knife  I  ground, 
That  gave  to  me  so  deep,  so  wide,  so  cruel  deadly  wound ! 
Ah  thou,  most  fortunate  and  most  unhappy  tomb  !       2755 
For  thou  shalt  bear,  from  age  to  age,  witness  in  time  to  come 
Of  the  most  perfect  league  betwixt  a  pair  of  lovers, 
That  were  the  most  unfortunate  and  fortunate  of  others, 
Receive  the  latter  sigh,  receive  the  latter  pang, 
Of  the  most  cruel  of  cruel  slaves  that  wrath  and  death  aye 

wrang.'  2760 

And  when  our  Juliet  would  continue  still  her  moan, 
The  friar  and  the  servant  fled,  and  left  her  there  alone  ; 
For  they  a  sudden  noise  fast  by  the  place  did  hear, 
And  lest  they  might  be  taken  there,  greatly  they  stood  in  fear. 
When  Juliet  saw  herself  left  in  the  vault  alone,  27^5 

That  freely  she  might  work  her  will,  for  let  or  stay  was  none, 
Then  once  for  all  she  took  the  cause  of  all  her  harms, 
The  body  dead  of  Romeus,  and  clasped  it  in  her  arms ; 
Then  she  with  earnest  kiss  sufficiently  did  prove, 
That  more  than  by  the  fear  of  death,  she  was  attaint  by  love  ; 
And  then  past  deadly  fear,  for  life  ne  had  she  care,       2771 
With  hasty  hand  she  did  draw  out  the  dagger  that  he  ware. 


ROMEUS  AND  JULIET  103 

*O  welcome  Death,'  quoth  she,  'end  of  unhappiness, 
That  also  art  beginning  of  assured  happiness, 
Fear  not  to  dart  me  now,  thy  stripe  no  longer  stay,      2775 
Prolong  no  longer  now  my  life,  I  hate  this  long  delay  ; 
For  straight  my  parting  sprite,  out  of  this  carcase  fled, 
At  ease  shall  find  my  Romeus'  sprite  among  so  many  dead. 
And  thou  my  loving  lord,  Romeus,  my  trusty  fere, 
If  knowledge  yet  do  rest  in  thee,  if  thou  these  words  dost  hear, 
Receive  thou  her,  whom  thou  didst  love  so  lawfully,     2781 
That  caused,  alas,  thy  violent  death,  although  unwillingly  ; 
And  therefore  willingly  offers  to  thee  her  ghost,       [to  boast 
To  th'end  that  no  wight  else  but  thou  might  have  just  cause 
Th'enjoying  of  my  love,  which  aye  I  have  reserved        2785 
Free  from  the  rest,  bound  unto  thee,  that  hast  it  well  deserved  ; 
That  so  our  parted  sprites  from  light  that  we  see  here, 
In  place  of  endless  light  and  bliss  may  ever  live  y-fere.' 
These  said,  her  ruthless  hand  through-girt  her  valiant 

heart: 

Ah,  ladies,  help  with  tears  to  wail  the  lady's  deadly  smart !  2790 
She  groans,  she  stretcheth  out  her  limbs,  she  shuts  her  eyes, 
And  from  her  corpse  the  sprite  doth  fly  ; — what  should  I 

say  ? — she  dies. 

The  watchmen  of  the  town  the  whilst  are  passed  by,  [  spy  ; 
And  through  the  gates  the  candle-light  within  the  tomb  they 
Whereby  they  did  suppose  enchanters  to  be  come,  2795 
That  with  prepared  instruments  had  opened  wide  the  tomb, 
In  purpose  to  abuse  the  bodies  of  the  dead, 
Which  by  their  science'  aid  abused,  do  stand  them  oft  in  stead. 


104  ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 

Their  curious  hearts  desire  the  truth  hereof  to  know  ; 
Then  they  by  certain  steps  descend,  where  they  do  find  below, 
In  clasped  arms  y-wrapt,  the  husband  and  the  wife,      2801 
In  whom  as  yet  they  seemed  to  see  some  certain  marks  of  life. 
But  when  more  curiously  with  leisure  they  did  view, 
The  certainty  of  both  their  deaths  assuredly  they  knew  : 
Thenhereand  there  so  long  with  careful  eye  they  sought,  2805 
That  at  the  length  hidden  they  found  the  murth'rers ; — so 

they  thought. 

In  dungeon  deep  that  night  they  lodged  them  underground  ; 
The  next  day  do  they  tell  the  prince  the  mischief  that  they 

found. 

The  news  was  by  and  by  throughout  the  town  dispread, 
Both  of  the  taking  of  the  friar,  and  of  the  two  found  dead.  2810 
Thither  might  you  have  seen  whole  households  forth  to  run, 
For  to  the  tomb  where  they  did  hear  this  wonder  strange  was 

done, 

The  great,  the  small,  the  rich,  the  poor,  the  young,  the  old> 
With  hasty  pace  do  run  to  see,  but  rue  when  they  behold. 
And  that  the  murtherers  to  all  men  might  be  known,  2815 
Like  as  the  murder's  bruit  abroad  through  all  the  town  was 

blown, 

The  prince  did  straight  ordain,  the  corses  that  were  found 
Should  be  set  forth  upon  a  stage  high  raised  from  the  ground, 
Right  in  the  selfsame  form,  showed  forth  to  all  men's  sight, 
That  in  the  hollow  vault  they  had  been  found  that  other  night ; 
And  eke  that  Romeus'  man  and  Friar  Laurence  should  2821 
Be  openly  examined  ;  for  else  the  people  would 


ROMEUS  AND  JULIET  105 

Have  murmured,  or  feigned  there  were  some  weighty  cause 
Why  openly  they  were  not  called,  and  so  convict  by  laws. 

The  holy  friar  now,  and  reverent  by  his  age,  2825 

In  great  reproach  set  to  the  show  upon  the  open  stage, — 
A  thing  that  ill  beseemed  a  man  of  silver  hairs, — 
His  beard  as  white  as  milk  he  bathes  with  great  fast-falling 

tears : 

Whom  straight  the  dreadful  judge  commandeth  to  declare 
Both,   how  this  murther  had    been    done,    and   who  the 

murth'rers  are  ;  2830 

For  that  he  near  the  tomb  was  found  at  hours  unfit, 
And  had  with  him  those  iron  tools  for  such  a  purpose  fit. 
The  friar  was  of  lively  sprite  and  free  of  speech, 
The  judge's  words  appalled  him  not,  ne  were  his  wits  to  seech, 
But  with  advised  heed  a  while  first  did  he  stay,  2&35 

And  then  with  bold  assured  voice  aloud  thus  'gan  he  say  : 

My  lords,  there  is  not  one  among  you,  set  together, 
So  that,  affection  set  aside,  by  wisdom  he  consider 
My  former  passed  life,  and  this  my  extreme  age, 
And  eke  this  heavy  sight,  the  wreak  of  frantic  Fortune's  rage, 
But  that,  amazed  much,  doth  wonder  at  this  change,    2841 
So  great,  so  suddenly  befall'n,  unlocked  for,  and  strange. 
For  I,  that  in  the  space  of  sixty  years  and  ten, 
Since  first  I  did  begin,  too  soon,  to  lead  my  life  with  men, 
And  with  the  world's  vain  things,  myself  I  did  acquaint,  2845 
Was  never  yet,  in  open  place,  at  any  time  attaint 
With  any  crime,  in  weight  as  heavy  as  a  rush, 
Ne  is  there  any  stander-by  can  make  me  guilty  blush, 


io6  ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 

Although  before  the  face  of  God,  I  do  confess 
Myself  to  be  the  sinfull'st  wretch  of  all  this  mighty  press.  2850 
When  readiest  I  am  and  likeliest  to  make 
My  great  accompt,  which  no  man  else  for  me  shall  undertake; 
When  worms,  the  earth,  and  death,  do  cite  me  every  hour, 
T'appear  before  the  judgment  seat  of  everlasting  power, 
And  falling  ripe,  I  step  upon  my  grave's  brink,  [think, 

Even  then,  am  I,  most  wretched  wight,  as  each  of  you  doth 
Through  my  most  heinous  deed,  with  headlong  sway  thrown 
In  greatest  danger  of  my  life,  and  domage  of  renown,  [down, 
The  spring,  whence  in  your  head  this  new  conceit  doth  rise, 
And  in  your  heart  increaseth  still  your  vain  and  wrong  surmise, 
May  be  the  hugeness  of  these  tears  of  mine,  percase,     2861 
That  so  abundantly  down  fall  by  either  side  my  face ; 
As  though  the  memory  in  Scriptures  were  not  kept 
That  Christ  our  Saviour  himself  for  ruth  and  pity  wept ; 
And  more,  whoso  will  read,  y-written  shall  he  find,      2865 
That  tears  are  as  true  messengers  of  man's  unguilty  mind. 
Or  else,  a  liker  proof,  that  I  am  in  the  crime, 
You  say  these  present  irons  are,  and  the  suspected  time ; 
As  though  all  hours  alike  had  not  been  made  above ! 
Did  Christ  not  say,  the  day  had  twelve  ? — whereby  he  sought 
That  no  respect  of  hours  ought  justly  to  be  had,    [to  prove, 
But  at  all  times  men  have  the  choice  of  doing  good  or  bad ; 
Even  as  the  sprite  of  God  the  hearts  of  men  doth  guide, 
Or  as  it  leaveth  them  to  stray  from  virtue's  path  aside. 
As  for  the  irons  that  were  taken  in  my  hand,  2875 

As  now  I  deem,  I  need  not  seek  to  make  ye  understand 


ROMEUS  AND  JULIET  107 

To  what  use  iron  first  was  made,  when  it  began  ; 
How  of  itself  it  helpeth  not,  ne  yet  can  help  a  man. 
The  thing  that  hurteth  is  the  malice  of  his  will, 
That  such  indifferent  things  is  wont  to  use  and  order  ill.  2880 
Thus  much  I  thought  to  say,  to  cause  you  so  to  know 
That  neither  these  my  piteous  tears,  though  ne'er  so  fast  they 
Ne  yet  these  iron  tools,  nor  the  suspected  time,  [flow, 

Can  justly  prove  the  murther  done,  or  damn  me  of  the  crime  : 
No  one  of  these  hath  power,  ne  power  have  all  the  three,  2885 
To  make  me  other  than  I  am,  how  so  I  seem  to  be. 
But  sure  my  conscience,  if  so  my  guilt  deserve, 
For  an  appeacher,  witness,  and  a  hangman,  eke  should  serve  ; 
For  through  mine  age,  whose  hairs  of  long  time  since  were  hoar, 
And  credit  great  that  I  was  in,  with  you,  in  time  tofore,  2890 
And  eke  the  sojourn  short  that  I  on  earth  must  make, 
That  every  day  and  hour  do  look  my  journey  hence  to  take, 
My  conscience  inwardly  should  more  torment  me  thrice, 
Than  all  the  outward  deadly  pain  that  all  you  could  devise. 
But,  God  I  praise,  I  feel  no  worm  that  gnaweth  me,    2895 
And  from  remorse's  pricking  sting  I  joy  that  I  am  free : 
I  mean,  as  touching  this,  wherewith  you  troubled  are, 
Wherewith  you  should  be  troubled  still,  if  I  my  speech  should 
But  to  the  end  I  may  set  all  your  hearts  at  rest,  [spare. 

And  pluck  out  all  the  scruples  that  are  rooted  in  your  breast, 
Which  might  perhaps  henceforth,  increasing  more  and  more, 
Within  your  conscience  also  increase  your  cureless  sore, 
I  swear  by  yonder  heavens,  whither  I  hope  to  climb,     2903 
And  for  a  witness  of  my  words  my  heart  attesteth  Him, 


io8  ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 

Whose  mighty  hand  doth  wield  them  in  their  violent  sway, 
And  on  the  rolling  stormy  seas  the  heavy  earth  doth  stay, 
That  I  will  make  a  short  and  eke  a  true  discourse 
Of  this  most  woeful  tragedy,  and  show  both  th'end  and  source 
Of  their  unhappy  death,  which  you  perchance  no  less 
Will  wonder  at  than  they,  alas,  poor  lovers  in  distress,  2910 
Tormented  much  in  mind,  not  forcing  lively  breath, 
With  strong  and  patient  heart  did  yield  themself  to  cruel 
Such  was  the  mutual  love  wherein  they  burned  both,  [death: 
And  of  their  promised  friendship's  faith  so  steady  was  the  troth/ 
And  then  the  ancient  friar  began  to  make  discourse,  29 1 5 
Even  from  the  first,  of  Romeus'  and  Juliet's  amours ; 
How  first  by  sudden  sight  the  one  the  other  chose, 
And  'twixt  themself  did  knit  the  knot  which  only  death  might 
And  how,  within  a  while,  with  hotter  love  oppressed,  [loose; 
Under  confession's  cloak,  to  him  themself  they  have  addressed, 
And  how  with  solemn  oaths  they  have  protested  both,  292 1 
That  they  in  heart  are  married  by  promise  and  by  oath  ; 
And  that  except  he  grant  the  rites  of  church  to  give, 
They  shall  be  forced  by  earnest  love  in  sinful  state  to  live : 
Which  thing  when  he  had  weighed,  and  when  he  understood 
That  the  agreement  'twixt  them  twain  was  lawful,  honest, 
And  all  things  peised  well,  it  seemed  meet  to  be,         [good, 
For  like  they  were  of  nobleness,  age,  riches,  and  degree  : 
Hoping  that  so,  at  length,  ended  might  be  the  strife, 
Of  Montagues  and  Capulets,  that  led  in  hate  their  life,  2930 
Thinking  to  work  a  work  well  pleasing  in  God's  sight, 
In  secret  shrift  he  wedded  them  ;  and  they  the  self-same  night 


ROMEUS  AND  JULIET  109 

Made  up  the  marriage  in  house  of  Capulet, 

As  well  doth  know,  if  she  be  asked,  the  nurse  of  Juliet. 

He  told  how  Romeus  fled  for  reaving  Tybalt's  life,        2935 

And  how,  the  whilst,  Paris  the  earl  was  offered  to  his  wife  ; 

And  how  the  lady  did  so  great  a  wrong  disdain, 

And  how  to  shrift  unto  his  church  she  came  to  him  again  ; 

And  how  she  fell  flat  down  before  his  feet  aground, 

And  how  she  sware,  her  hand  and  bloody  knife  should  wound 

Her  harmless  heart,  except  that  he  some  mean  did  find  2941 

To  disappoint  the  earl's  attempt ;  and  spotless  save  her  mind. 

Wherefore,  he  doth  conclude,  although  that  long  before 

By  thought  of  death  and  age  he  had  refused  for  evermore 

The  hidden  arts  which  he  delighted  in,  in  youth, —     2945 

Yet  won  by  her  importuneness,  and  by  his  inward  ruth, 

And  fearing  lest  she  would  her  cruel  vow  discharge 

His  closed  conscience  he  had  opened  and  set  at  large ; 

And  rather  did  he  choose  to  suffer  for  one  time 

His  soul  to  be  spotted  somedeal  with  small  and  easy  crime, 

Than  that  the  lady  should,  weary  of  living  breath,        2951 

Murther  herself,  and  danger  much  her  seely  soul  by  death  : 

Wherefore  his  ancient  arts  again  he  puts  in  ure, 

A  certain  powder  gave  he  her,  that  made  her  sleep  so  sure, 

That  they  her  held  for  dead  ;  and  how  that  Friar  John  2955 

With  letters  sent  to  Romeus  to  Mantua  is  gone  ; 

Of  whom  he  knoweth  not  as  yet,  what  is  become  ;     [tomb. 

And  how  that  dead  he  found  his  friend  within  her  kindred's 

He  thinks  with  poison  strong,  for  care  the  young  man  sterved, 

Supposing  Juliet  dead;  and  how  that  Juliet  hath  carved,  2960 


no  ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 

With  Romeus'  dagger  drawn,  her  heart,  and  yielded  breath, 
Desirous  to  accompany  her  lover  after  death  ; 
And  how  they  could  not  save  her,  so  they  were  afeard, 
And  hid  themself,  dreading  the  noise  of  watchmen,  that  they 
And  for  the  proof  of  this  his  tale,  he  doth  desire         [heard. 
The  judge  to  send  forthwith  to  Mantua  for  the  friar,   2966 
To  learn  his  cause  of  stay,  and  eke  to  read  his  letter  ; 
And,  more  beside,  to  th'end  that  they  might  judge  his  cause 
He  prayeth  them  depose  the  nurse  of  Juliet,        [the  better, 
And  Romeus'  man  whom  at  unwares  beside  the  tomb  he  met. 

Then  Peter,  not  so  much  erst  as  he  was,  dismayed ;  2971 
'  My  lords,'  quoth  he,  'too  true  is  all  that  Friar  Laurence  said. 
And  when  my  master  went  into  my  mistress'  grave, 
This  letter  that  I  offer  you,  unto  me  then  he  gave, 
Which  he  himself  did  write,  as  I  do  understand,  2975 

And  charged  me  to  offer  them  unto  his  father's  hand.' 

The  opened  packet  doth  contain  in  it  the  same 
That  erst  the  skilful  friar  said  ;  and  eke  the  wretch's  name 
That  had  at  his  request  the  deadly  poison  sold, 
The  price  of  it, and  why  he  bought,  his  letters  plain  have  told. 
The  case  unfolded  so  and  open  now  it  lies,  2981 

That  they  could  wish  no  better  proof,  save  seeing  it  with  their 
So  orderly  all  things  were  told  and  tried  out,  [eyes ; 

That  in  the  press  there  was  not  one  that  stood  at  all  in  doubt. 

The  wiser  sort,  to  council  called  by  Escalus,  29^5 

Have  given  advice,  and  Escalus  sagely  decreeth  thus : 
Thejiurseof  Juliet  is  banished  in  her_age, 
Because  that  from  the  parents  she  did  hide  the  marriage, 


ROMEUS  AND  JULIET  in 

Which  might  have  wrought  much  good  had  it  in  time  been 

known, 

Where  now  by  her  concealing  it  a  mischief  great  is  grown  ; 
And  Peter,  for  he  did  obey  his  master's  hest,  299! 

In  wonted  freedom  had  good  leave  to  lead  his  life  in  rest ; 
Th'apothecary  high  is  hanged  by  the  throat, 
And  for  the  pains  he  took  with  him  the  hangman  had  his  coat. 
But  now  what  shall  betide  of  this  grey-bearded  sire?     2995 
Of  Friar  Laurence  thus  arraigned,  that  good  barefooted  friar  ? 
Because  that  many  times  he  worthily  did  serve 
The  commonwealth,  and  in  his  life  was  never  found  to  swerve, 
He  was  discharged  quite,  and  no  mark  of  defame 
Did  seem  to  blot  or  touch  at  all  the  honour  of  his  name.  3000 
But  of  himself  he  went  into  an  hermitage,  [his  age  ; 

Two  miles  from  Verone  town,  where  he  in  prayers  passed  forth 
Till  that  from  earth  to  heaven  his  heavenly  sprite  did  fly, 
Five  years  he  lived  an  _  hermit  and  an  hermit  did  he  die. 

The  strangeness  of  the  chance,  when  tried  was  the  truth, 
The  Montagues  and  Capulets  hath  moved  so  to  ruth,   3006 
That  with  their  emptied  tears  their  choler  and  their  rage 
Was  emptied  quite ;  and  they,  whose  wrath  no  wisdom  could 

assuage, 

Nor  threat'ning  of  the  prince,  ne  mind  of  murthers  done, 
At  length,  so  mighty  Jove  it  would,  by  pity  they  are  won.  3010 

And  lest  that  length  of  time  might  from  our  minds  remove 
The  memory  of  so  perfect,  sound,  and  so  approved  love, 
The  bodies  dead,  removed  from  vault  where  they  did  die, 
In  stately  tomb,  on  pillars  great  of  marble,  raise  they  high. 


H2  ROMEUS  AND  JULIET 

On  every  side  above  were  set,  and  eke  beneath, 

Great  store  of  cunning  epitaphs,  in  honour  of  their  death. 

And  even  at  this  day  the  tomb  is  to  be  seen ; 

So  that  among  the  monuments  that  in  Verona  been, 

There  is  no  monument  more  worthy  of  the  sight, 

Than  is  the  tomb  of  Juliet  and  Romeus  her  knight.      3020 


f  Imprinted  at  London,  in  Fleet  Street,  within  Temple 
Bar,  at  the  Sign  of  the  Hand  and  Star,  by  Richard 
Tottill  the  xix  day  of  November,  An.  Do.  1562. 


TEXTUAL  NOTES 

IN  these  Notes  I  record  the  readings  of  the  various 
editions  and  of  the  original,  and  note  words  which  have 
been  modernised  in  this  edition,  but  whose  original  form  is 
worth  notice.  Spellings  retained  for  purposes  of  rhyme  are 
pointed  out,  too.  The  numbers  refer  to  the  lines. 

The  spelling  of  the  original  is  fairly  constant,  but  one  or 
two  words,  like  subtle-^  possess  quite  a  variety  of  forms.  In 
the  original  the  past  tense  in  final  ed,  in  which  the  vowel  e 
is  not  sounded,  is  usually  spelt  de,  as  preferde  (11),  some 
times  only  d,  as  Indewd  (26),  but  there  are  a  few  exceptions, 
as  sozvede  (79)  pronounced  sow'd.  Those  words  in  which 
the  ending  is  spelt  ed,  as  compared  (12),  are  to  have  this  final 
syllable  pronounced  fully  ;  in  these  cases  the  e  is  accented  in 
our  modernisation.  When  the  final  sound  of  the  past  tense 
is  /  the  word  is  usually  so  spelt,  is prickt  (72),  but  there  are 
numerous  exceptions  due  to  the  conventional  spelling,  as 
touchd  (233)  and  forsd  ($2).  In  some  cases,  too,  the  usual 
verb-ending  in  est  of  the  2nd  person  singular  is  printed  in 
full,  where  the  elision  of  the  e  would  be  phonetically  more 
correct.  See  Notes  to  lines  1423,  1457. 

Brooke  retained  a  number  of  old  forms  for  purposes  of 
rhyme,  as  geast  (162)  for  the  sake  of  feast  (161),  although 
he  elsewhere  spells  gestes  (185).  In  some  words  the  r  has 
to  be  trilled  for  a  syllable,  as  forborne  (1022).  These  cases 
are  also  noticed. 


H4  TEXTUAL   NOTES 

As  was  often  the  case,  the  old  editors  copied  one  another. 
Collier  followed  Malone  and  Halliwell  Collier,  but  Hazlitt 
collated  his  text  with  Huth's  original  and  avoided  most  of 
the  old  errors.  Daniel  went  straight  to  the  original  in  the 
Bodleian,  and  printed  the  most  perfect  text,  and  our  text  is 
in  the  main  taken  from  him ;  but  the  original  has  been 
referred  to  in  dubious  cases.  In  collating  with  Malone  I 
used  his  small  separate  volume  of  Romeus,  printed  in  1780, 
of  which  only  twelve  copies  were  taken  off.  This  does  not 
contain  many  of  the  inaccuracies  noted  in  Daniel's  collation. 
As  Halliwell  followed  Collier,  and  apparently  corrected  his 
text  nowhere  except  in  1.  2926,  where  he  reads  the  obvious 
them  for  rhem,  I  do  not  give  the  results  of  collation  with  him. 

M.=  Malone;  C.=  Collier;  H.=  Hazlitt;   D.  =  Daniel; 

O.=  Original. 
9.  betid.     O.  betyde. 
1 8.  hair.     O.  heare. 
38.  blood.     O.  bhud. 
43.  gentle.     O.  ientyl. 
50.  burned.     O.  boornd. 
89.  whilst.     O.  whitest,  but  monosyllabic. 

96.  yield.     O.  yeld. 

97.  he  run.      O.  he  ronne;    C.  be.      The  h  in  O.  is  a 
defective  type,  hence  the  misreading. 

98.  sun.     O.  sonne. 

10 1.  among.     O.  emong. 

1 1 6.  booteth.     C.,  H.  bootest. 


TEXTUAL   NOTES  115 

1 1 8.  sweeter.     O.,  C.,  H.  wetter. 
129.  veil.     O.  veale. 
135.  barren.     O.  barrayne. 
144.  fret.     Q.freate. 

162.  geast,  retained  for  rhyme  with  feast. 

163.  thither.     O.  thether. 
1 68.  press.     Q.prease. 

173.  than.     O.  then. 

174.  maugre.     O.,  D.  manger;  M.,  C.,  H.  maugre. 
192.  beholding.     O.  beheldlng. 

20 1.  perfect.     Q.perfit. 

213.  scarcely.     O.  skasely. 

220.  wrapt.  O.  wrapt.  In  O.  the  words  rapt  and  wrapt 
are  confused.  Rapt  (283)  is  Middle  English  rapen,  to  carry 
away,  transport,  and  so  is  wrapped  (O.  wrapt),  483.  Bewrapt 
(382),  and  «ra//  (388),  are  used  correctly.  Wrapt  (220)  is 
a  further  confusion,  which  was  very  common,  with  Latin 
raptus,  from  rapere,  to  seize. 

226.  limb.     O.  limme. 

267.  tender.     M.,  C.,  H.  slender. 

269.  hath.     C.,  H.  had. 

284.  quoth  he.     O.  (if  he). 

305.  so.     C.  to. 

315.  seld.     O.  sild. 

316.  the  own.     D.  conjectures  their  or  his  own — unneces 
sarily,  the  own  being  a  good  expression. 

352.  yonder.     O.  yender. 

374.  th' attempted.     O.  thattempted \  C.,  H.  that  tempted. 


n6  TEXTUAL   NOTES 

381.  subtle.     O.  mttilL 
396.  subtle.     O.  suttel. 

398.  befiled.     O.,  C.,  H.  befylde;  M.  defylde. 
4.16.  my  thought.       M.,  C.,  H.  my  thoughts;  D.  conjec 
tures  me  thought. 

419.  talked.     D.'s  emendation  ta/kt-  O.,  M.,  C.,  H.  talke* 
460.  reaveth.     O.  reueth  ;  M.  driveth. 

lover's.     O.,  C.,  H.  loves. 
463.  doth.     O.  both. 

465.  hour.     Bracket  in  O.,  C.,  H.  and  D.  ends  at  hour; 
M.  has  no  bracket ;  here  at  bower  (466).    See  next  note. 

466.  bower.     M.,  C.,  H.,  D.  bowre ;  O.  howre. 
476.  Aye.     O.  Ay  ;  M.  In. 

484.  sudden.     O.  sodain. 

557.  betimes.     C.,  H.  bestlmes. 

569.  lurk.     O.  loorkz. 

575.  of.     D.  o    ,  a  printing  error. 

599.  redeth.     O.  readeth. 

663.  tail.     O.  tayle.     See  Glossary. 

666.  chat.     O.  that. 

667.  six.     O.  v\. 

733.  quoth  he.     O.,  C.,  H.,  D.  (<f  he) ;  M.  quod  he. 
740.  friar.     O.  fryre,   here   monosyllabic ;    usually   dis 
syllabic,  as  2045,  and  then  spelt  fryer. 
746.  hours.     O.  hozuers,  here  dissyllabic. 
777.  will  we.     C.,  H.  we  will. 
783.  y-beat.     O.ybet. 
825.  bound.     O.  bond. 


TEXTUAL   NOTES  117 

846.  fets.     O.fettes. 

856.  all.     C.,  H.  omitted. 

870.  feign.     O.fayne;  in  844,  O.fayne  is  fain. 

871.  sprung.     O.  strong. 

872.  wrung.     O.  zuroong. 

899.  easily.     O.  easely  ;  but  in  1202  O.  easely  is  only  dis 
syllabic,  and  we  print  easely. 

911.  blindfold.     O.  blyndfyld. 

919.  Thus.     O.,  C.,  H.  This. 

926.  dis-eased.     O.  diseased. 

940.  turn.     O.  toorne. 

957.  raked.     O.  raakd. 

985.  gasp.     O.,  M.,  H.,  D.  gaspe  ;  C.  graspe. 

988.  whom.     O.,  D.  who\  M.,  H.  whom\  C.  who. 

1003.  and.     M.  omitted. 

fierce.      O.,  M.,  C.,  H.  feerce ;  D.  fee  ,  an 

error  in  printing. 

1010.  sword.     O.  szverd. 

hath.     M.,  C.,  H.  had. 

1 02 2.  forborne;  the  r  is  trilled,  making  the  word  tris- 
syllabic. 

1051.  plague.     O.  plage. 

1060.  luckless.     O.  lookeles. 

1062.  native.     O.  natife\  so  also  1439. 

1070.  seer's.     O.  seers. 

1099.  accursed.     O.  a  curst. 

1 1 10.  abode.     M.,  D.  abode  \  O.,  C.,  H.  abrode.     Abode 
is  apparently  correct,  for  Boaistuau  has  here  repos,  p.  57,  b. 


n8  TEXTUAL  NOTES 

1119.  weened.     O.  wend. 

1 1 88.  begun.     O.,  C.,  H.,  D.  begpone\  M.  begonne. 

1 192.  me.     O.  my. 

1 202.  easely,  here  dissyllabic.     See  note  to  899. 

1 204.  held.     O.  hyld. 

1205.  sits.     C.,  H.///. 
1258.  lover.     O.  louer,  louer. 

1322.  with.     O.,  D.  «;'  ;  C.,  H.  it?  sobs. 

1331.  wished  that  he  had.  O.,  M.,  C.,  H.  wished  that  he 
had;  D.  reads  he  [ne]  had,  unnecessarily,  I  think  :  the  original 
spelling,  wished,  shows  that  the  word  is  dissyllabic  and  the 
insertion  of  ne  destroys  the  metre.  The  poet  simply  means 
that  he  (Romeus)  wished  he  had  been  born  earlier,  so  as  to 
have  avoided  the  troubles  consequent  upon  his  actual  life 
time. 

1339.  lasten.     C.,  H.  hasten. 

1344.  Unconstant.     O.  ^inconstant ;  C.,  H.  Uinconstant. 

1357.  hour.     O.  howre,  is  dissyllabic. 

1389.  gaol.     O,gay!e. 

1396.  after.     O.,  C.,  H.  afther. 

1401.  med'cine.     O.  medson. 

1423.  mad'st.     O.,  etc.,  madest,  but  monosyllabic. 

1432.  ought'st.  O.,  H.  oughtest,  but  monosyllabic;  C. 
oughest  \  M.,  D.  oughts t. 

1452.  may'st.     O.,  C.,  H.,  D.  mast;  M.  mayst. 

1453.  Thither.     O.  Thether. 

1457.  leav'st.     O.  leanest,  but  monosyllabic. 
1487.  veil.     O.  wale. 


TEXTUAL   NOTES  119 

149 1 .  skill-less.     O.  skil  les. 

1535.  muet.     O.  muet. 

1554.  geason.     O.  geyson. 

1 561.  That.     O.,  C.,  H.  Thol. 

1574.  dooms.     O.,  C.,  H.,  D.  doomes\  M.  doome. 

1592.  tyrannous,  properly,  dissyllabic.  O.,  M.,  H.,  D. 
tyrant ;  C.  tyrant.  Tyrans  is  the  abbreviated  adjectival  form 
(tyrannous). 

1645.  will  be.     O.  wilbe. 

1646.  so.     O.,  etc.,  no. 

1657.  bent  t'obey.  O.,  C.,  H.  bend  tobay  ;  M.  bent  to 
obey.  Lore.  M.,  C.  love. 

1680.  foreign.     Q.forein. 

1684.  no.     D.  conjectures  now. 

1693.  his.     O.  hip. 

1769.  hears.     O.  beares ;  M.,  C.,  H.,  D.  hearts. 

1780.  Romeus',  possibly  not  the  possessive  case,  but 
nominative. 

1782.  truce.  O.  trewe\  M.,  D.  trewce\  C.  trezvse ; 
H.  trews. 

1799.  had.     M.,  C.,  H.  hath. 

1840.  amazed.     O.  amasd. 

1850.  frailless.  See  Glossary.  O.,  C.,  H.,  D.  frayllesse ; 
M.  skillesse. 

1 88 1.  Among.     O.  Emong. 

1893.  features.     O.,  C.,  H.,  D.fewters;  M.featers. 

1905.  lavas,  as  in  491,  where  O.,  etc.,  have  lauas.  Here 
O.,  etc.,  have  lauasse.  See  Glossary. 


izo  TEXTUAL  NOTES 

1910.  yield.     O.  yelde. 

1945.  wrath.     O.  worth ;  M.,  C.,  H.,  D.  wroth. 
1954.  Whenso    they.     O.,  M.,   H.,  D.    When   so   they, 
C.  When  they  so. 

1957.  thy.     C.  the\  O.,  M.,  H.,  D.  thy. 

1973.  Unless.     O.  On  ksse. 

1986.  unfalsed.     O.  vnfalst. 

2003.     th'end.     O.  thend. 

2050.  had.     M.,  C.  hath\  H.,  D.  had. 

2059.  slie-     °-  Me. 

2088.  friendship's.     O.,  H.,  *D.frindships ;  M.  friendship  ; 

C.  frindship. 

2097.  travelled.     O.  trauaykd. 
2 10 1.  beasts.     O.  beaste\  M.,  H.,  C.,  D.  beastes. 
2106.  sprite.     O.  sprete. 
2157.  dieth.     O.  dyeth;  D.  conjectures  /y#/&. 
2159.  Thy.     C.,  H.  The-.  O.,  M.,  D.  *ty. 
2161.  themself.     M.,  D.  them  selfe\  O.,  C.,  H.  himselfe. 
2188.  guie.     O.  gye. 

2239.  ^nto-     O.,  C.,  H.,  D.  /»  /o;  M.  ;»/o;  D.  conjec 
tures  in  so. 

2248.  precious.     Q.pretious. 
2259.  earl,  dissyllabic,  the  r  trilled. 

2269.  show.     O.  shewe,  rhyming  with  rew,  2270. 

2270.  their.     O.  thele\  C.,  H.,  D.  their  \  M.  theyr. 
2310.  dis-ease.     O.  disease. 

2313.  approached.     O.  opproched\  M.  aproched-,  C.,  H., 

D.  approched. 


TEXTUAL  NOTES  121 

2314.  tempered.  O.,  C.,  H.  tempted ';  M.  temper V;  D. 
temperd. 

2324.  she.     O.,  M.  the\  C.,  H.,  D.  she. 

2339.  She.     C.  So ;  O.,  M.,  H.,  D.  She. 

2351.  I  not.     O.,  H.,  D.  not  I;  M.,  C.  7  »*/. 

2383.  weighed.     O.  zvayde. 

2390.  tender.     M.,  C.,  slender-,  O.,  H.,  D.  tender. 

2401.  arms,  dissyllabic,  the  r  trilled. 

2429.  shrieked.     O.  shriked. 

2450.  to.     O.  omitted. 

2570.  shew.     O.  shew,  to  rhyme  with  _/£«>,  2569. 

2616.  tomb.     O.  toomme,  rhyming  with  comme,  2615. 

2629.  upright.     O.,  D.  vprlght\  M.,  C.,  H.  up  upright. 

2682.  corse.     O.,  M.,  H.,  D.  corps ;  C.  corse. 

2736.  thy  churchyard.  O.,  H.  this  churchyarde  ;  M.,  C., 
D.  thy. 

281 1.  might  you.     M.,  C.,  H.  you  might. 

2816.  bruit.     O.  brute. 

2837.  together.     O.  together,  rhyming  with  consider,  2838. 

2843.  sixty.     O.  Ix. 

2860.  still.     C.  till 

2905.  wield.     O.  welde. 

2921.  they.     C.  thy. 

2926.  them.     C.  rhem. 

2959.  for.     D.  conjectures  or. 

2971.  much  erst  as  he.  O.  as  erst  as;  C.,  H.  erst  as\ 
M.,  D.  much  as  erst  he. 

2984.  press.     Q.prease. 


122  TEXTUAL   NOTES 

3008.  Was.  M.,  C.  Has ;  D.  says :  "  [NOTE. — This  cor 
rection  obtained  from  Mr.  H.  Huth's  copy  of  the  ed.  1562. 
The  copy  in  the  Bodleian  Library  from  which  Malone 
(followed  by  Collier  and  Halliwell)  printed  his  edition,  is 
defaced  in  this  place,  the  /  only  of  the  word  remaining 
distinct.]" 


GLOSSARY 


ACCOMPT,  account,  2852 
ACCOMPTED,  accounted,  1625 
ALCUME.     This  can  only  be 
meant       for       Alcmene, 
mother  of  Hercules,  for 
the  sake  of  whose   love, 
Jupiter  extended  the  night. 
Cf.  Chaucer,  Troll.  III., 
1427:— 

O    Night,    alias !    why    niltow 

over  us  hove, 
As  longe  as    whanne    Almena 

lay  by  Jove  ? 

824 
ASTONNE,    overpower,    stun, 

2131 

ASTOUND,  astounded,  2033 
ATROPOS,  one  of  the   three 

Fates.    See  SISTERS  THREE 
ATTAINT,  convicted,   2846; 

infected,  2770 
AYE,  ever,  84 

BARE,  bore,  2630 
BEEN,  are,  3018 
BEFALL,  befallen,  1060 
BEFILED,  defiled;    a    rather 
uncommon    and    archaic 


form,  superseded  by  befoul. 
Collier's  statement  that 
our  instance  is  merely  a 
printer's  error  for  defied 
is  not  warranted.  398 

BEHEST,  promise,  1884 

BESEEKS,  beseeches,  543 

BESIDE,  except,  2354 

BESIEGEN,  besiege,  the  old 
plural  form,  2089 

BESPRENT,  sprinkled,  1576 

BET,  better,  600 

BETORN,  torn,  2422 

BEWRAY,     disclose,     betray, 

455 

BIN,  are,  743  ;   been,  1093 

BLEAR,  blur,  dim,  2292 

BLIN,  cease,  379 

BLINDFOLD  GODDESS,  For 
tune,  911 

BLISS,  bless,  285 

BLISSED,  blessed,  2633 

BOCCACE,  Boccaccio,  the 
Italian  novelist,  16;  394 

BOOT,  avail,  1833 

BOOT,  remedy,  1922 

BRACKISH,  salt,  1576 

BRAKE,  broke,  1699 


124 


GLOSSARY 


BRAST,  burst,  2441 
BRICKLE,  brittle,  1850 
BRUIT,  noise,  news,  2816 
BUT,  except,  1643 

CAITIVE,  distressed  or  afflicted 

person,  2751 
CAPEL'S,  Capulet's,  157 
CAREFUL,  full  of  care,  1484 
CHILLISH,  chill,  2388 
CHOLER,  anger,  rage,  1505 
CLEPED,  called,  named,  30 
CLOSE,  secret,  2336 
CONVICT,  convicted,  2824 
CORSE,  corpse,  1040 
COULD,  was  able  to  do,  1159 
COVERT,  secret,  630 
COVETISE,  covetousness,  2581 
CUPID,  782,  915,  etc.;    his 

brand,    1442 ;    his  whip, 

606 

CURIOUS,  careful,  1895 
CURIOUSLY,  carefully,  2803 

DAW,  arouse,  2417 
DEBATE,  strife,  166 
DEFAME,  blame,  ill-repute, 

2999 

DEPART,  separate,  1224 
DEPOSE,     call     as     witness, 

cause  to  depose,  2969 
DESART,  desert,  710 


DIDO,  Queen  of  Carthage, 
who  loved  ^Eneas,  driven 
to  her  shores  by  a  storm 
after  the  fall  of  Troy. 
Mercury  compelled  ^Eneas 
to  depart,  and  Dido  burnt 
herself  on  a  funeral  pile. 

391 

DIGHT,  dressed,  adorned,  897 

DISDAINFUL,  indignant,  1931 
DIS-EASE,  discomfort,  set  ill 
at     ease ;      common      in 
Chaucer,  2207,  2310 
DOMAGE,  damage,  2858 
DRAVE,  drove,  1184 
DREMPT,  dreamed,  646 
DRENCHED,  steeped,  2352 

EASELY,  easily,  1202 
EFT,  again,  1295 
EFTSOONS,  forthwith,  1235 
EGALL,  equal,  33 
ERST,  before,  586;  first,  2017 
ESTATE,  state,  condition,  5  I 
EYNE,  eyes,  87 

FALSE,  turn  false,  594 

FARE,  go,  2234 

FATES,  HEAVENLY,  another 
reference  to  the  Three 
Fates.  See  SISTERS  THREE. 

4 


GLOSSARY 


125 


FEARFUL,  full  of  fear,  1944, 
2637 

FELL,  cruel,  perfidious,  78 

FERES,  companions,  friends, 
101 

FET,  fetch,  1076 

FETS,  fetches,  846 

FIELD-BED,  a  portable  bed, 
likened  to  a  field  of  war. 
Boaistuau  has  here  lvn 
llct  de  camp.'  Shakspere  has 
a  play  on  the  same  word 
in  Romeo,  II.,  i.,  40.  897 

FILED,  "tongue  so  smoothly 
filed"  a  common  expres 
sion,  occurring  in  Skelton, 
Spenser,  and  Shakspere. 
Cf.  "  His  discourse  per 
emptory,  his  tongue  filed, 
his  eye  ambitious,"  etc. 
(Love's  Labour's  Lost,V.,  i.) 
1017 

FLAWS,  sudden  gusts  or  bursts 
of  wind,  1361 

FOLDE,  folded,  216 

FONE,  foes,  1288 

FORCED  NOT,  cared  not,  74 

FORCE,  "I  force  it  not,"  I 
take  no  account  of  it, 
care  not,  860 

FORDONE,  exhausted,  1468 

FORLORN,  lost,  1 204 


FORTUNE,  1343,  etc.;  wheel 
of,  935,  etc. 

FRAILLESS,  in  the  original 
frayllesse.  The  line  may 
signify,  "glass  (hard  as  it 
is)  is  brittle  (and  breaks), 
but  youth,  even  less  frail, 
is  frail  too."  1850.  See 
note  to  this  line,  Textual 
Notes.  Malone's  emend 
ation  to  skillesse  does  not 
commend  itself.  [?"and 
frail  as  frail  is  youth." 
I.G.] 

FRAUGHTED,  fraught,  filled, 
1116 

FRAY,  frighten,  911 

FRO,  from,  2618 

'GAN,  began,  48 

GEAR,  stuff,  preparation, 
2585 

GEASON,  scanty,  1554 

GEAST,  guest,  162 

GHASTFULLY,  dismally,  2033 

GHOSTLY,  spiritual,  595 

'GiN,  begin,  1235 

'GiNS,  begins,  237 

GLEAD,  fire,  flame,  303 

GLIST'RING,  flashing,  spark 
ling,  2404 

GRAFFED,  planted,  268 


126 


GLOSSARY 


GRECIAN  RAPE,  Helen  carried 

off  by  Paris,  2237 
GRIPE,  grip,  259 
GRISLY,  horrible,  dreadful,  40 
GUERDON,  reward,  1042 

GUERDONLESS,      without      TC- 

ward,  338 
GUIE,  guide,  2188 

HALT,  from  the  French  hault, 

proud,  high-minded,  966 
HAP,  chance,  fortune,  15 
HAPLY,  by  good  chance,  1 469 
HASTE  AWAY,  hasten  on,  1924 
HATH    WRONG,   is   wronged, 

1048 

HEIR,  heiress,  1880 
HENT,  held,  1808 
HEST,  command,  19 
HIED,  went,  1090 
HIETH,  hies,  travels,  2256 
HIGHT,  was  named,  223 
HOLP,  helped,  580 
HORSES,  tearing  asunder  by, 

1902 

HUGY,  huge,  2053 
HYMENE,    hymen,   rites    of 

marriage,  2510.     French, 

hymenee 

IMPORTUNE,        importunate, 
2275 


IMPORTUNENESS,  importunity 
or  importuning,  2946 

INGRAVED,  buried,  laid  in 
grave,  2648 

INTOMBED,  entombed,  2373 

IT,  used  in  the  genitive,  as  in 
the  folio  of  Shakspere,  till 
superseded  by  the  modern 
its.  The  form  is  retained 
here  as  appropriate  in  the 
language  of  the  foolish  old 
Nurse.  654 

JENNET,  a  small  Spanish  horse, 

723 

JOICELESS,  juiceless,  dry,  with 
ered,  1139.  Boaistuau 
has  here,  p.  58  :  imon 
corps  espuise  de  toute 
humidite? 

JOVE,  1305 

KINDLY,  natural,  proper, 
2154,  2662 

LASTEN,  last,  1339 
LAVAS,  lavish,  491 
LEECHES,  doctors,  2455 
LEGEND,    legendary,    of  the 

nature  of  legend,  39 
LET,  hindrance,  2766 
LET,  prevent,  hinder,  2621 


GLOSSARY 


127 


LETHE'S    FLOOD,  a    river  of 

Hades,  a  draught  of  whose 

waters    brought   oblivion, 

214 
LETTETH,  prevents,  hinders, 

1620 

LEWD,  vicious,  evil,  14 
LEWDNESS,  baseness,  1959 
LIGHTED     DOWN,     alighted, 

2613 

LIST,  chose,  pleased,  28 
LISTED,     had      pleased     or 

chosen,  232 
LIVELY  THREAD,  an  allusion 

to  the  three  Fates,  501. 

See  SISTERS  THREE. 
'LONGED,  belonged,  2287 
LORE,  learning,  66 
LORE,  lost,  1813 
LORN,  lost,  1 1 5 
LUCIFER,  the  star,  1704 

MAKE,     companion,     mate, 

2021,  2737 
MARS,  916 

MAUGRE,  in  spite  of,  174 
MEAN,  means,  1561 
Mo,  more,  597 

MOON,      WASTED      HORNS      OF 
THE,   153 

MOST,    "the    most,"    most 
men,  2740 


MUET,     mute     (dissyllabic), 

*535>  1944 
MURTHERING,       murdering, 

1145 
MURTHERERS,        murderers, 

2815 

NE,  nor,  190;  not,  130 
NILL,  will  not,  300 
NOULD,  would  not,  1996 
NOVEL,  new,  208 

OCEAN,  "  Ocean  to  the  sea  of 
Ind,"  a  reference  to  Ocean 
as  the  great  water  which 
surrounded  the  world,  877 

OTHER,  others,  other  people, 
822,  1381,  2473 

OVID,  394 

PEISED,  poised,  524 
PERCASE,  perchance,  2201 
PERCHER    LIGHT,    large   wax 
candle,  2318.    (The  Cam 
bridge  University  Library 
MS.  of  Chaucer's  Trail,  has 
percher  in  Book  iv.,  1. 1 245, 
instead  of  the  usual  morter. 
See   Skeat's   Note    to   his 
edition,  p.  492.) 
PHCEBUS,  the  Sun;    a  name 
for  Apollo,  228 


128 


GLOSSARY 


PHCEBUS,     steeds     of,     920, 

1254 
PLEASURE,  Mount  of,  and  the 

pit  of  pain,  1672 
PLIGHT,  folded,  2635 
PLIGHT,  plighted,  gave,  145 
POISONED  HOOK,  wrapped  in 

the  pleasant  bait,  388 
PORT,  appearance,    bearing, 

138 
POST,  "  in   post,"  in    haste, 

hastily,  2532 
PREAST,  pressed,  2445 
PRESS,  throng,  crowd,  2984 
PREST,  ready.     Copied  from 

Boaistuau,  p.  48  b.:  'preste 

&  appareillee  de  vous  suture.9 

3H 

PROPER,  own,  513,  2082 

PROVERBS  : — 
'  Unminded    oft    are    they 

that  are  unseen/  206 
The  poisoned  hook  is  oft 

wrapped  in  the  pleasant 

bait,  388 
Falsehood  hides  in  cloak  of 

Truth,  389 
'  There  is  no  better  way  to 

fish  than  with  a  golden 

hook/  712 
Lost    opportunities    never 

recur,  891-2 


Love's  troubles   last   long, 

1339 

'  Pleasures  grow  of  sight/ 

1660 
'The  thing  that  hurteth  is 

the  malice  of  his  [a  man's] 

will/  2879 

QUARIERS,  small  candles  con 
sisting  of  a  block  of  wax 
with  a  wick  in  the  middle, 
836 

QUELL,  kill,  1233 
QUOD,  quoth,  said,  633 

RACE,  people,  populace,  248 
RAMPETH,    reareth,    rageth, 

1027 

RAMPIRE,  rampart,  1154 
RAPT,  carried    away,    trans 
ported,  283,  1095,  2239 
RAUGHT,  reached,  seized,  263 
REAVED,    tore,    or    snatched 

away,  38 
RECOURSE,    return ;   perhaps 

visiting  place,  2419 
RECURE,  recovery,  73 
REDETH,    counsels,    advises, 

599 

REFT,  snatched  away,  2667 

REPORT;  her  trumpet,  398 
RESTINESS,  sluggishness,  1756 


GLOSSARY 


129 


RIVE,  rend,  cleave,  1 192 
RIVE,  tear  away,  banish,  208 
ROUND,  whisper,  344 
ROUT,  crowd,  163 
RUE,  sorrow,  2814 

SCANT,  scarcely,  16 

'SCAPE,  escape,  1250 

SEECH, seek, 2834.  "His wits 
to  seech/'  his  wits  wanting. 

SEEK,  sicken,  413 

SEELY,  fond,  foolish,  122,  640 

SELD,  seldom,  3 1 5 

SHENT,  chidden,  blamed,  648 

SHOPE,  shaped,  1030 

SHROUD,  cover,  conceal, 
1290. 

SISTERS  THREE,  the  three 
Fates,  Clotho,  Lachesis, 
and  Atropos,  who  presided 
over  the  destiny  of  men. 
The  first  was  represented 
as  holding  the  distaff  and 
as  spinning  the  thread, 
and  Atropos  as  cutting  it. 
Very  frequently  men 
tioned  by  Chaucer.  23 

SITH,  since,  19 

SKIES,  turning,  the  revolving 
heavens,  1747 

SKILLESS,  without  skill,  23 

SKiLLS,knowledge,ability,  571 


SOWND,  swoon,  847 
SPRITE,  spirit,  1 109 
STALE,  stole,  2272 
STAY,  prevention,  2766 
STEDE,  stead,  1416 
STERVE,  perish,  1 34 
STERVED,  dead,  2462 
STRAITLY,     closely,    tightly, 

„   2635 

STRAKE,  struck,  234 

'SUAGE,  assuage,  2725 

TAIL,  posterior,  with  an  im 
plied  pun  on  tale,  663 
TANTALUS,    condemned     to 
suffer  intolerable  thirst  in 
Hades,  steeped  up  to  the 
chin   in  water  which  he 
could  not  drink,  339 
TARE,  tore,  1291 
TESTY,  petulant,  1931 
THESEUS,  governor  of  Athens  ; 
he  married  Hippolyta  (cf. 
Midsummer  Night's  Dream) 
and  was  met  by  a  number 
of  female  suppliants  com 
plaining  of  Creon,  King 
of  Thebes.     Theseus  took 
Thebes  and   slew  Creon, 
capturing  there  Palamos, 
and  Arcite  (cf.  Chaucer's 
Knight's  Tale).     198,  392 


130 


GLOSSARY 


THRALLED,  subdued,  2415 
THROUGH-GIRT,  smitten 

through,   pierced    (Troll., 

iv.,  627),  2789 
TICKEL,  unstable,  1405 
TIDE,  time,  1253 
TILT,  tilth,  tillage    ground, 

786 

TOFORE,  before,  1919 
TOOTING  HOLE,  spyhole,  450 
TRODE,  trodden,  2750 

UNGRATE,  ingrate,  ungrate 
ful,  2212 

UNSKUT,  opened,  2405 

UNTIL,  unto,  1910 

UPRIGHT  BEAM,  "  with  up 
right  beam  he  weighed," 
etc. ;  he  judged  without 
bias,  as  though  weighing 
with  level  balances,  195. 
(See  also  1.  524.) 

URE,  use,  2953 

VENUS,  917 

VENUS'  CHILD,  Cupid,  782 

VIAL,  phial,  bottle,  2149 

WALT'RING,  wallowing,  wel 
tering,  1293 


WAN,  won,  1332 
WARE,  wore,  1292 
WARELESS,  unwary,  220 
WARELY,  warily,  249 
WAXEN,  grow,  wax,  1039 
WEED,  robe,  clothes,  1620 
WEEN,  think,  consider,  332 
WEEPEN,      weep       (plural), 

2473- 

WELL  AWAY,  alas !   2409 
WIGHT,  man,  person,  338 
WIST,  knew,  265 
WITHOUTEN,  without,  1735 
WONE,  dwell,  2497 
WONES,  dwells,  1963 
WORTH,  worthy,  2649 
Wox,  waxed,  209 
WRACK,  wreck,  808 
WRACKED,  wrecked,  1368 
WRACKFUL,  dangerous,  802 
WRAPPED,      carried      away, 

transported,  483 
WRAPT,  seized,  220 
WREAKFUL,  revengeful,  2116 

Y-FERE,    in    companionship, 

2788 
Y-FOLD,  folded,  1319 

Y-THRALLED,  Subjected,  1873 

Y-wis,  certainly,  701 


APPENDIX   I 


TABLE     OF     CORRESPONDENCE 
BETWEEN 

BROOKE'S  POEM  AND  SHAKSPERE'S  PLAY 


\  THE  numbers  on  the  left  refer  to  Brooke's  lines.  The 
right-hand  side  of  the  column  is  reserved  for  the  parallels 
or  references  in  Shakspere's  text.  For  the  Italian  novels 
I  used  Chiarini's  reprint ;  for  Boaistuau,  the  edition  of 
1559;  for  Shakspere,  Professor  Gollancz's  Temple  Edi 
tion  ;  and  for  Chaucer,  Professor  Skeat's  Clarendon  Press 
Edition,  1900. 

The  following  abbreviations  are  used  in  Appendices  I. 
and  II. : 

Br.  =  Brooke  N.  =  Nurse 

C.  =  Capulet  P.  ==  Paris 

Cris.  =  Criseyde  Pand.  =  Pandarus 

J.  =  Juliet  R.  =  Romeo 

L.  =  Laurence  Sh.  =  Shakspere 

M.  =  Montague  Troll.  =  Chaucer's  Troilus 

and  Criseyde 


132 


APPENDIX   I 


TEXT 
116 

137 

140 

H5 
'55 

157 
162 
165 

I.  i.  223-4 
I.  i.  234 
I.  ii.  87 
I.  ii.  99 
Cf.  I.  i.  243-4 
See  note  3 
1.  ii.  20 
I.  ii.  34,  67 
I.  ii.  67 
I.  v.  67 

ARGUMENT 
Corresponds  to  1st  Prologue1 

Tm 

2      1st  Prol.  2 
25,32  1st  Prol.  i 

I.  i.  first  part2 
41      I.  i.  88 
53     I.  v.  69 
57     I.  i.  174*?. 

I.  ii.  46-51 
75     Not  in  Sh. 
92     I.  i.  125  seq. 
101      I.  i.  1 66  (Benvolio) 

1  In  Br.  the  story  commences  before  Christmas,  155  ;  a  number  of 
days  pass  after  that  in  which  R.  passes  J.'s  window,  449,  till  the  lovers 
speak  in  the  moonlight,  467.     The  following  Saturday  J.  goes  to  shrift, 
and  is  married,  716,  768.     All  this  may  take  us  to  the  end  of  January. 
Then  their  bliss  lasts  for  "  a  month  or  twain,"  949  ;  the  fray  occurs 
the  day  after  Easter,  960.     This  takes  us  to  April.     For  some  while 
afterwards,  but  we  are  not  led   to  believe  a  great  period,  J.  mourns. 
C.  then  forces  her  to  promise  to  wed   Paris  on  a  following  Wednesday, 
1973,  and  this,  she  tells  L.,  is  the  loth  of  September.     On  this  day  J.  is 
found  in  a  trance,  but  meanwhile  P.  is  said  to  have  spent  many  days 
wooing  her,  2277    (see  also    231,2).     It  is  difficult  to  reconcile  these 
statements  and  dates,  but  the  significant  point  is  that  in  Br.  the  action 
extends  over  nine  months.     In  Sh.  the  lovers  meet  on  Sunday  ;  they 
wed  on  Monday,  pass  the  night  together,  and  part  on  Tuesday  morning. 
C.  desires   his  daughter   to  wed   on  Thursday,  but  alters  the  day  to 
Wednesday.     She  is  then  found  apparently  dead,  and  is  buried.     On 
Thursday  night  Romeo  returns  to  her  and  they  die  together.     The  time 
of  action  in  Sh.  is,  therefore,  only  five  days,  but  the  play  concludes  on 
the  morning  of  the  sixth.     See  also  1997. 

2  Sh.  mentions  specifically  Three  civil  braivht  I.  i.  96  ;  not  in  Br. 

3  See  note  to  Argument. 


APPENDIX   I 


133 


167 

[.  iv. 

344  I.  v.  130 

183  ] 

'..  v.  67-94  l 

353  I-  v.  138 

198  . 

[.  v.  43 

357  I.  v.  140 

204  . 

[.  v.  54-5 

365-428  Not  in  Sh. 

1 

208 

Of.  Prologue  II.,  3 

[.  ii.  46 

388  Cf.  Prologue  II. 
439  11.  i.  i 

216 

[.  v.  43* 

448  11.  ii.6 

233 
246 
249 

.  v.  993 
.  v.  20,  43 
•v.  52,  95 

456  Cf.ll.  i. 
457  II.  ii.  75 
III.  ii.  10-15 

254 

.  v.  954 

•  y-  53 

467  II.  ii.  23 

255 

.  iv.  27,  etc. 

II.  ii.  52 

267 

.  V.  102 

493  II.  ii.  64 

279 

.  v.  95-112 

499  II.  ii.  50  seqJ 

319 

.v.  113 

518  Cf.ll.  ii.  23 

321 

.  v.  1145 

531  II.  ii.  94,  143 

3  24-5  J 

.  V.  120 

536  II.  ii.  144 

1  In  Sh.  T.  rises  in  anger  against  R.  but  is  restrained  by  C.  (see  Intro 
duction). 

2  In  Sh.  R.  asks  a  serving-man,  but  he  is  not  able  to  inform  him.     R. 
afterwards  asks  N.,  I.  v.  114 ;  in  Br.  the  person  he  asks  is  not  specified. 

3  Sh.  does  not  inform  us  of  J.'s  sudden  passion,  but  her  words,  I.  v.  99, 
would  lead  us  to  believe  that  she  has  already  noted  R.     In  Sh.  she  is  far 
more  reticent  and  maidenly  than  in  Br.,  where  she  opens  the  conversation. 

4  In  Sh.  Mercutio  does  not  sit  by  J. ;  his  presence  would,  of  course, 
have  spoilt  the  beautiful  lyrical  confession  of  R.  and  J. 

5  See  note  to  216. 

6  Sh.'s  contraction  of  the  time  of  the  action  and  his  conception  of  R.'s 
love  would  not  permit  of  this  dallying  and  frequent  passing.     See  note 
to  Argument. 

7  Sh.  discards  these  windy  rhetorical  declarations,  and  gives  us  instead 
outbursts  of  lyrical  splendour. 


134 


APPENDIX   I 


541   II.  ii.  150-3 

631   II.  iv.  1094 

554  II.  ii.  127,  147' 

633  II.  iv.  192^ 

558-62  II.  ii.  1892 

634  II.  iv.  198 

563  II.  ii.  125-7 

652  I.  iii.  i6-6z6 

565  II.  iii.  1-30 

II.  iv.  211 

581   IV.  ii.  31,  etc. 

667  II.  iv.  194 

587  II.  iii.  31 

673   II.  v.  I 

596  II.  iii.  51,  60 

II.  V.  187 

597  II.  iii.  65 

679  II.  v.  38 

599  II.  iii.  82 

684  II.  v.  48 

601  II.  iii.  85 

685  II.  v.  498 

607  II.  iii.  90 

688  II.  v.  70 

609  II.  iii.  91 

703  II.  v.  38,  56 

613  II.  iii.  93 

7169 

6233 

721-2  Not  in  Sh.10 

1  In  Sh.  it  is  J.  who  yields  herself,  firstly,  when  R.  overhears  her, 
II.  ii.  49,  and  secondly,  before  N.  calls  her  away,  II.  ii.  147. 

2  He  says  this  in   Sh.  in  soliloquy,  after  J.  has  finally  withdrawn, 
II.  ii.  189.     In  Sh.,  J.  promises  to  send  N.  to  R.  on  the  morrow  to  get 
the  news,  II.  ii.  145  and  169.     In  both  Sh.  and  Br.,  J.  sends  N. 

3  In  Sh.  Juliet  confides  in  the  Nurse  in  the  interim  between  Scenes  ii. 
and  iv.,  Act  II.,  while  R.  is  at  L.'s  cell. 

4  In  Sh.  she  brings  her  man  Peter  with  her ;   Peter  in  Br.  is  R.'s 
servant ;  Balthasar  is  R.'s  servant  in  Sh. 

5  In  Sh.  the  wedding  is  to  take  place  that  very  afternoon,  i,e.,  on 
Monday. 

6  In  Sh.  this  is  mingled  with  news  about  P.,  who  has  already  been 
promised  J.     In  V.  iii.  76,  R.  thinks  it  is  his  man  who  has  told  him 
this. 

7  In  Sh.  N.  is  not  speedy  j  she  is  over  three  hours  gone  :  II.  v.  I  and  10. 

8  Elaborated  in  Sh. 

9  In  Sh.  the  permission  to  go  to  shrift  is  obtained  in  the  interim 
between  Scenes  v.  and  vi.  Act  II. 

10  In  Sh.  (II.  vi.  1 6),  J.  appears  unattended. 


APPENDIX  I 


135 


745  II.  vi.  i 

753-66  Not  in  Sh. 

767  II.  vi.  35  * 

774  II.  iv.  221  ~ 

779  Actll.vi. — Act  III.  v. 

809-13  3 

815-6III.  ii.  344 

827  III.  v.5 

830  II.  ii.  66 

841  III.  v.  i 

920  Cf.  III.  ii.  i  ;  III.  v. 


955  III.  i.  3-4 

960  III.  i.6 
Cf.  I.  i. 

961  I.  i.  39 
III.  i.  38 

962? 

963  II.  iv.  19-27 

III.  i.  38 
999,  1007  III.  i.  59,  89, 

1698 
101 1  III.  i.  71 


1  In  Sh.  we  do  not  see  this  marriage  ceremony  j  it  takes  place  imme 
diately  after  II.  vi. 

2  In  Sh.  R.  himself  tells  N.  to  come  for  the  ladder,  II.  iv.  199,  within 
an  hour  of  that  present  time,  and  before  the  marriage. 

3  In  Sh.  the  ladder  is  procured  between  II.  iv.  and  III.  ii. 

4  Here  Sh.  has  introduced  the  fatal  fray  with  Tybalt,  cutting  out  this 
meeting  of  the  lovers  at  night  and  many  subsequent  ones  (see  note  to 
Argument),  and   concentrating  all  their  passion  on  the  one  night  of 
meeting  and  parting,  III.  v.,  for  which,  in  Br.,  see  1529. 

5  See  last  note  :  this  meeting  is  cut  out  in  Sh. 

6  In  Sh.  the  fight  occurs  on  the  wedding-day,  soon  after  the  wedding. 
There  are  two  frays  in  Sh.,  the  other  being  in  I.  i. 

7  Sh.  does  not  mention  the  Purser's  gate,  the  scene  being  merely  A 
Public  Place.      In   Boaistuau,  p.   546  :    la  ports  de  Boursari.      In  Sh., 
Mercutio,  rash  and  bold,  provokes  T.,  and  is  villainously  slain  by  him 
under  R.'s  arm.     Sh.'s  R.,  just  come  from  his  marriage,  is  not  capable 
of  the  burst  of  fury  which  Br.'s  R.  evinces,  and  is  stirred  to  action  only 
after  the  fall  of  Mercutio. 

8  In  Sh.  T.  is  watching  for  R.,  III.  i.  59  ;  he  has  already  challenged 
him  to  fight,  II.  iv.  6,  consequent  upon  his  words  of  threat  at  the  banquet, 
I.  v.  94.     None  of  this  is  in  Br.     Cf.  R.'s  interference  with  Benvolio's, 
I.i.71. 

A  y~~ 

^   '       :'        «-        * 

5^"     \\:^  :~\ 


136  APPENDIX  I 


1019  III.  i.  I361 
1031  III.  i.  177 
1034  III.  i.  1372 

1039  IH-  i-  H^ 
Cf.  I.  i.  80 

1040  III.  i.  154,  i863 
1075  III.  ii.  694 
1113-40  III.  ii.  73-85 


1145   III.  ii.  985 

III.  ii.  90 

1149  III.  ii.  ioo6 
1184  Cf.  III.  ii.  123,  135, 

137 

1209  Cf.  2  Gent.  III.  i.7 
12 1 1  Cf.  III.  v.  7o8 
1218  III.  ii.  138 


1  In  Sh.  R.  refuses  T.'s  challenge,  III.  i.  65,  in  a  gentle  manner. 
This  enrages  Mercutio,  who  attacks  T. 

2  See  notes  to  962,  999»  Joo/j  an^  IOI9»  Appendix  I. 

3  In  Sh.  it  is  Lady  Capulet  who  demands  that  R.  should  die. 

4  In  Sh.  J.  hears  of  R.'s  banishment  from  N.,  who  learns  the  news 
while  gone  for  the  rope  ladder. 

5  "Ah,  cruel  murthering  tongue,  murth'rer  of  others'  fame, 

How  durst  thou  once  attempt  to  touch  the  honour  of  his  name?" 
In  Sh.  her  reproaches  are  amplified  by  N.,  on  whom  she  turns  : — 

"  Blistered  be  thy  tongue 

For  such  a  wish  !  he  was  not  born  to  shame." — III.  ii.  90. 
Tivo  Gentlemen,  I.  ii. : — 

"  O  hateful  hands,  to  tear  such  loving  words  ! 

Injurious  wasps,  to  feed  on  such  sweet  honey." 
and  II.  vi. : — 

"  Fie,  fie,  unreverend  tongue  !  to  call  her  bad 
Whose  sovereignty  so  oft  thou  hast  preferred." 

6  "Why  blam'st  thou  Romeus  for  slaying  of  Tybalt  ? 

Since  he  is  guiltless  quite  of  all,  and  Tybalt  bears  the  fault  ? " 
Romeo  and  Juliet,  III.  ii.  ioo  : — 

"But  wherefore,  villain,  didst  thou  kill  my  cousin? 
That  villain  cousin  would  have  kill'd  my  husband." 

7  "You  are  accounted  wise,  a  fool  am  I  your  nurse, 

But  I  see  not  how  in  like  case  I  could  behave  me  worse." 
Tivo  Gentlemen,  III.  i.  : — 

"Launce :  I  am  but  a  fool,  look  you  5  and  yet  I  have  the  wit  to  think 
my  master  is  a  kind  of  a  knave." 

8  See  note  to  1.  1794,  Appendix  II. 


APPENDIX   I 


137 


1230  III.  ii.  I4O1 

1287  III.  iii.  n9 

1234  III.  ii.  141  2 

1292  III.  iii.  12,  etc. 

12393 

III.  iii.  68 

1259-64  III.  i.  141 

1297  III.  iii.  44,  etc. 

III.  ii.  141 

1315   Cf.  III.  iii.  52-70 

III.  iii.  14 

1318  Not  in  Sh. 

1267  III.  iii.  I 

1325   Cf.  III.  iii.  H910 

III.  iii.  765 

1352  III.  iii.  165 

1277  III.  iii.  796 

1353   III.  iii.  109-13 

1280  III.  iii.  146 

1381   III.  iii.  122-34 

III.  iii,  i6i7 

1383-1480  III.  iii.  108 

12838 

158" 

1  In  Sh.  N.  promises  R.  shall  come  that  night ;  not  in  Br.     See  note 
to  1280,  Appendix  I.  ^ 

2  In  Sh.  N.  goes  to  L.  between  Scerfes  ii.  and  iii.,  Act  III. 

3  N.  does  not  threaten  suicide  in  Sh.  j  see  note  to  521,  Appendix  II. 
Not  in  Boaistuau. 

4  Br.  omits  all  mention  of  R.  after  the  fray  until  he  has  lengthily 
described  the  dolours  of  J. 

5  Br.   says   this  secret   place   was  where   L.  had   secreted   his  "fair 
friends"  in  his  youth,   1273;  anc^  7e^  we  are  informed  that  he  had 
travelled   abroad  for  twenty  years,  when  young,  2099.     Sh.  suppresses 
this  "  secret  place,"  and  refers  to  L.'s  study.  III.  iii.  76. 

6  In  Sh.  N.  does  not  arrive  until  after  L.  has  told  R.  his  fate  ;  in  Br. 
she  arrives  before. 

7  N.  has  already  promised  this  in  Sh.,  III.  ii.  140;  and  it  is  she  and 
L.  who  actually  arrange  this  at  the  cell,  III.  iii.  159-61. 

8  In  Sh.  N.  tells  J.  in  the  interim  between  Scenes  iii.  and  v.,  Act  III. 

9  See  note  to  1277,  Appendix  I. 

10  In  Sh.  R.  has  not  railed  on  his  birth,  etc.,  as  L.  says,  and  S.  here 
has  followed  his  original  in  one  place,  while  forgetting  that  he  had  not 
followed  it  in  the  other.     See  Appendix  II. 

11  In  Br.  L.  lays  down  the  law ;  in  Sh.  L.  reasons.     Br.'s  L.  has  the 
same  sort  of  wisdom  as  all  the  seers  of  euphuistic  books  ;  cf.  the  prolix, 


i38 

APPENDIX 

[ 

H43 

III.  iii.  15  J 

1713 

III.  v.  35 

1482 

C/III.  v.  1302 

Cf.  II.  iii.  1-6 

1490 

III.  iii.  165 

1715 

III.  v.  1-58 

1496 

C/III.  iii.  173 

1725 

III.  v.  35-6 

1499 

III.  iii.  149,  169 

1732 

Not  in  Sh. 

1504 

III.  iii.  152 

1733 

Not  in  Sh. 

1507 

III.  iii.  1463 

1736 

III.  iii.  149-546 

1529 

III.  V.4 

'744 

Cf.I.  i.  125-617 

1546 

C/III.v.  60  5 

*794 

III.  v.  70 

1605 

Not  in  Sh. 

1844 

Cf.I.  ii.  78 

1662 

III.  v.  52 

I.  iii.  63 

1668 

III.  v.  60 

1849 

Not  in  Sh.9 

1695 

III.  v.  44 

1857 

Cf.  I.  ii.  9 

1703 

III.  v.  7 

I.  iii.  69 

classical  death-speech  of  Sir  John  of  Bordeaux,  in  Lodge's  Rosalynde, 
pp.  2-6,  "Shakespeare  Classics,"  i. 

1  "Unto  a  valiant  heart  there  is  no  banishment, 

All  countries  are  his  native  soil  beneath  the  firmament." 
Cf.  Richard  //.,  I.  3,  on  Bolingbroke's  banishment  : 

"  All  places  that  the  eye  of  Heaven  visits, 
Are  to  a  wise  man  ports  and  happy  havens." 

2  ".  .  .  the  conduits  of  his  tears."     See  also  1805. 

3  After  this  in  Sh.  comes  Scene  iv.,  in  which  C.  and  P.  arrange  for 
the  marriage  of  J.  and   P.  on  the  following  Thursday  ;  in   Br.  P.  is  not 
mentioned  until  after  the  banishment  of  R.  (see  Introduction). 

4  Br.  goes  through  the  greater  part  of  the  night's  story  as  Chaucer  does 
in  his  Troil.,  IV. ;  Sh.  shows  us  only  their  passionate  parting,  III.  v. 

5  Very  little  of  this  talk  between  R.  and  J.  is  in  Sh. 

6  R.  goes  to  Mantua  between  III.  v.  and  V.  i.     Here  in  Sh.  follow 
immediately  the  arrangements  for  the  wedding  of  J.  and  P. 

7  In  Sh.  this  sorrow  of  R.  is  reported  by  M.  earlier  in  the  story.     See 
note  to  1758,  Appendix  II. 

8  In  Sh.  P.  has  already  been  promised  J.,  even  before  the  lovers  meet. 

9  Cf.  1.  1881-4.     I"  Sh.  P.  is  at  the  commencement  a  suitor,  begging 
against  C.'s  inclination,  I.  ii.  6  ;  there  is,  therefore,  none  of  this  in  the  play. 


APPENDIX  I 


139 


1974 

See  Appendix  II. 

1992 

III. 

v.  1974 

1997 

Not  in  Sh.5 

2005 

III. 

v.  231 

IV. 

.  18 

2007 

IV. 

•446 

2015 

IV. 

.  467 

2019 

IV. 

•  55 

2023 

IV. 

.54,62^ 

2035 

IV. 

i.  68 

2045 

Not 

in  Sh.9 

2048 

c/ 

IV.  i.  47 

2065 

IV. 

i-  93 

2066 

Not 

in  Sh.9 

1860  I.  ii.  9 

I.  iii.  12  l 

1890  III.  v.  68,  105 
1893  III.  v.  114 

I.  iii.  74,  77,  80-94 
1905   III.  v.  1 17 
1915  C/IV.i.  77* 
1929  See  1849 
1945  III.  v.  142-97 
1962  III.  v.  179 

1973       III.  iv.   2Q3 

III.  v.  162 

IV.  i.  i 

IV.  ii.  36-7 


1  In  Sh.  J.  is  14  years  old.     In  Boaistuau  she  is  18  (p.  64.) 

2  See  note  to  521,  Appendix  II. 

3  Thursday  in  Sh.  is  the  day  first  arranged,  but  C.  afterwards  decides 
on  Wednesday.     (IV.  ii.  24  and  37.     See  Appendix  II.) 

4  In  Sh.  C.  exit  alone. 

5  In  Sh.  the  time-compression  brings  C.'s  insistence  to  J.  that  she 
should  wed  P.  immediately  after  the  parting  of  R.     The  leave-taking  of 
the  lovers,   Lady  Capulet's  talk  to  J.  about  P.,  C.'s  storming  at  his 
daughter,  and  J.'s  going  to  L.,  all  take  place  in  a  short  space  of  time,  in 
one  single  morning.     In   Sh.,  therefore,  there   is   no   mention   of  J.'s 
retiring.     The  introduction  of  P.  at  this  point  serves  to  keep  him  in  the 
action.     See  also  2015  and  2277. 

6  There  is  no  confession  in   Sh.,  although  J.  pretends  to  go  for  that 
purpose. 

7  In   Sh.   L.  already  knows  it,  having  been  told  by   P.     See  2045, 
Appendix  I. 

8  See  1915,  etc.     In  Sh.  J.  threatens  to  kill  herself  only  if  there  is  no 
remedy  for  her  predicament. 

9  L.  does  not  leave  J.  in  Sh. ;  his  disappearance  at  this  point  would  be 
most  inopportune,  and  for  this  additional  reason,  perhaps,  P.  is  made  to 


140 


APPENDIX   I 


2069 

IV.  i.  I  * 

2163 

IV.  i.  113,  123 

2OJO2 

2164 

IV.  i.  115 

20723 

2167 

IV.  i.  117 

2074 

IV.  i.  68 

2168 

III.  iii.  1507 

2091 

IV.  i.  92 

2176 

IV.  i.  121 

2109 

II.  iii.  15 

2187 

IV.  i.  122 

2129 

IV.  i.  934 

2194 

IV.  ii.  158 

2I3O 

IV.  i.  94 

22OO 

IV.  ii.  17-22 

2132 

IV.  i.  96 

2234 

IV.  ii.  33 

2134 

IV.  i.  101 

IV.  iii.  i 

2145 

C/.  IV.  i.  71-6 

2239-429 

2150 

IV.  i.  91  s 

2244 

IV.  ii.  31 

2152 

IV.  i.  103 

2255 

IV.  ii.  44 

2159 

IV.  i.  1096 

2257 

III.  iv.  20  10 

have  already  told  him  the  news.     In  Br.  P.  afterwards  begs  to  see  J.,  and 
does  so.     See  2263  sej. 

1  In  Sh.  L.  has  already  asked  P.  this.     See  2015. 

2  Thursday  in  Sh.     See  notes  to  Arg.,  1973  and  1997,  Appendix  I. 

3  See  note  to  Arg. 

4  In  Boaistuau  L.'s  youth  is  not  mentioned,  as  in  2097  and  2122,  but 
we  are  afterwards  told,  p.  83  b,  that  the  friar  gained  his  knowledge  in  his 
young  years. 

5  In  Sh.  this  is  "to-morrow  night"  ;  see  note  to  1997,  Appendix  I. 

6  In  Sh.  L.  says  the  trance  shall  last  forty-two  hours,  IV.  i.  105.     In 
Boaistuau,  p.  69,  and  in  Struijs  he  says  at  least  forty  hours.     Painter 
followed  Boaistuau.     It  may  be  that  Sh.  got  his  forty-two  hours  from 
the  old  play(?),  or  that  he  arrived  at  it  by  a  certain  time  calculation. 
Thus,  if  J.  drank  the  potion  at  3  a.m.  on  Wednesday,  she  would  be  due 
to  awake  at  9  p.m.  on  Thursday,  reckoning  forty-two  hours. 

7  In  Sh.  L.  says  this  to  R.  at  the  cell. 

8  In  Sh.  J.  meets  her  mother  in  the  hall. 

9  In  Sh.  C.  is  already  there  arranging  for  the  feast. 
10  See  note  to  1973,  Appendix  I. 


APPENDIX   I 


141 


2258* 

2291 

Not  in  Sh.7 

2259 

C/III.  iv.  23  2 

2299 

III.  v.  220,  237 

2263 

Cf.  IV.  i.  3 

2301 

III.  v.  215 

2271 

Cf.  IV.  ii.  254 

2304 

C/III.  v.  217 

2274 

C/IV.v.  41 

2312 

Not  in  Sh.9 

2276 

C/  IV.  ii.  24 

2313 

IV.   iii.    2 

2277 

Not  in  Sh.5 

2316 

IV.  iii.10 

2281 

IV.  ii.  i  6 

2326 

IV.  iii.  3  " 

2288 

III.  v.  240 

2341 

Cf.  IV.  iii.  20  12 

1  See  note  to  1974,  Appendix  II. 

2  Sh.  gives  a  far  better  reason  for  neglect  of  display.     In  the  play  it  is 
C.  who  decides  to  have  little  celebration,  and  because  of  the  death  of  T. 

3  In  Sh.  P.  sees  J.  at  L.'s  cell.     See  note  to  2066,  Appendix  I. 

4  In  Sh.,  of  course,  she  does  not  do  this ;  it  was  quite  inconsistent 
with  her  character.     The  corresponding  passage  in  Sh.  is  IV.  ii.  25, 
where  J.  says  : 

"  I  met  the  youthful  lord  at  Laurence'  cell, 
And  gave  him  what  becomed  love  I  might, 
Not  stepping  o'er  the  bounds  of  modesty." 

5  See  note  to  Arg. 

6  In  Sh.,  III.  iv.  27,  C.  says  he  will  have  "some  half  a  dozen  guests," 
and  for  these,  IV.  ii.  2,  he  wants  "twenty  cunning  cooks."     This  is 
due  to  Sh.  following  Br.  in  one  place  (11.  2281-7)  and  inventing  in 
another. 

7  In  Sh.,  IV.  ii.,  N.  is  present  when  J.  tells  her  parents  of  her  new 
decision. 

8  Shifted  in  Sh.  to  III.  v.,  before  J.  goes  to  L.,  and  found  only  in  Br. 
and  Struijs  besides  Sh. 

9  See  note  to  Arg. 

10  In  Sh.  J.  and  N.  go  to  select  the  clothes  before  retiring  ;  there  is  no 
intervening  time  as  in  Br.  :  another  compression.     See  note  to  Arg. 

n  In  Sh.  Lady  Capulet  enters  at  this  point,  and  J.  despatches  N.  to 
help  her  mother  in  the  preparations. 

12  In  Sh.  the  mixture  is  already  made  by  the  friar,  IV.  i.  93,  seq.,  and 
cf.  2129,  Appendix  II. 


142 


APPENDIX   I 


2  344 

IV.  iii.  24  $eq. 

H3i 

IV.  v.  48 

2361 

IV.  iii.  24,  30 

2445 

IV.  iv.  25 

2365 

IV.  iii.  38 

IV.  v.  335 

2380 

IV.  iii.  42,  52,  55 

2448 

IV.  v.  41  seq. 

2393 

Not  in  Sh.1 

2454 

IV.  v.  31-25 

2400 

IV.  iii.  58  2 

2455 

Not  in  Sh.6 

2402 

IV.  iii.  58 

2474-7 

V.  ii.  4 

24033 

24877 

2405 

IV.  iv.  24 

2488 

V.  ii.  5-6 

IV.  v.  i 

2491 

Cf.V.  ii.  9-108 

2407 

IV.  v.  i-n 

2493 

V.  ii.  ii 

2418 

IV.  v.  14 

2494 

V.  ii.  10 

2421 

Not  in  Sh.  4 

2502 

V.  ii.  149 

2424 

IV.  v.  19 

2505 

Cf.lV.  v.  91 

24274 

2508 

IV.  v.  84  10 

1  Cf.  IV.  iii.  50. 

2  In  Sh.  she  drinks  thinking  of  R. 

3  The  day  must  dawn,  in  Sh.,  in  IV.  iv.     Cf.  1.  4. 

4  In  Sh.  Lady  Capulet  enters  the  chamber  on  hearing  the  cries  of  N.j 
C.  follows. 

5  Sh.,  following  Br.,  makes  C.  proclaim  that  he  is  speechless,  but 
allows  him  also  to  indulge  in  clamorous  lamentation.     (Malone.) 

6  In  Sh.  L.  is  one  of  the  guests,  and  there  are  no  doctors  sent  for ; 
their  place  is  taken  by  the  friar.     L.  is  not  present  in  the  poem. 

7  In  Sh.  we  only  see  him  on  his  return  to  L.,  V.  ii. 

8  In  Sh.  the  friar  goes  to  seek  out  a  fellow  friar  visiting  the  sick  in  the 
city,  and  the  town  officials,  suspecting  they  were  in  a  house  smitten  with 
pestilence,  kept  them  confined  there.     V.  ii.  9-10. 

9  See  note  to  2611,  Appendix  I. 

10  "And  now  the  wedding  weeds  for  mourning  weeds  they  change, 

And  Hymene'  into  a  dirge  j — alas  !  it  seemeth  strange  : 
Instead  of  marriage  gloves,  now  funeral  gloves  they  have, 
And  whom  they  should  see  married,  they  follow  to  the  grave. 


APPENDIX   I 


2515 

IV. 

\. 

I  II 

2567 

V. 

-  573 

2521 

IV. 

i. 

ill 

2577 

V. 

'505 

2523 

IV. 

i. 

109 

2578 

V. 

IV. 

v 

So 

2581 

V. 

•  75 

2526 

v. 

i. 

17 

2587 

V. 

•  77 

2533 

v. 

i. 

12 

2588 

Cf. 

V.  i. 

79 

2547 

V. 

i. 

24  I 

2593 

Cf. 

V.  iii 

.  22 

2557 

Cf. 

II 

-  iii-  75 

2597 

Cf. 

V.  i. 

33, 

366 

2604 

V. 

i.  25  "' 

The  feast  that  should  have  been  of  pleasure  and  of  joy, 
Hath  every  dish  and  cup  filled  full  of  sorrow  and  annoy." 
R.  &  7.,  IV.  v.  84  : 

"  All  things  that  we  ordained  festival, 
Turn  from  their  office  to  black  funeral  : 
Our  instruments  to  melancholy  bells ; 
Our  wedding  cheer  to  a  sad  burial  feast ; 
Our  solemn  hymns  to  sullen  dirges  change  ; 
Our  bridal  flowers  serve  for  a  buried  corse ; 
And  all  things  change  them  to  the  contrary." 

1  Notice  R.'s  swift  decision  as  to  his  future  actions  in  Sh.,  as  com 
pared  with  Br.'s  idea  on  the  subject.     See  also  2789,  Appendix  I. 

2  In  Sh.  R.  and  his  man  Balthasar  (see  note  to  631)  meet  in  the  street, 
and  R.  sends  him  off  for  post-horses.     V.  i.  26,  33. 

3  In  Sh.  R.  already  knows  the  poor  apothecary,  V.  i.   37,  and  the 
man's  shop  is  adjacent.     V.  i.  55-57. 

4  In  Br.  R.  offers  fifty  crowns  of  gold,  2577 ;  in  Sh.  forty  ducats, 
V.  i.  59  ;  in  Boaistuau  fifty  ducats,  p.  76. 

5  In  Br.  the  apothecary  says,  2585,  "this  is  the  speeding  gear" ;  in 
Sh.  R.  says,  V.  i.  60  :  "  A  dram  of  poison  j  such  soon-speeding  gear"  etc. 

6  In  Sh.  R.  and  Balthasar  (see  note  to  631)  apparently  leave  together. 

7  He   sends    Balthasar  for  the   ink    and    paper    before  he    sees    the 
apothecary  in  Sh. 


APPENDIX   I 


261 1  V.  iii.  241 

2612  V.  i.  26,  33  2 

2614  V.  iii.  21 

2615  V.  iii.  223.  4 
2619-20  V.  iii.  255 
2623  V.  iii.  23 
2628  V.  iii.  43 

2630  C/V.  iii.  87-8  6 

2631  V.  iii.  91 
2641  V.  iii.  119 
2643  V.  iii.  91-1157 
2661  V.  iii.  97-101 
2681  V.  iii.  155 

C/V.  iii.  113 

2686  V.  iii.  120 


2694 

V.  iii. 

I2O-I 

2695 

V.  iii. 

125 

2697 

V.  iii. 

122 

2698 

V.  iii. 

I288 

2701 

V.  iii. 

139,  144 

2702 

V.  iii. 

1449 

2706 

V.  iii. 

H7 

2710 

V.  iii. 

148 

2713 

V.  iii. 

'55 

2717 

V.  iii. 

i57 

2721 

V.  iii. 

161 

2733 

V.  iii. 

163 

2762 

V.  iii. 

158-61 

2772 

V.  iii. 

164 

V.  iii. 

169 

- 


1  Here  in  Sh.  follows  V.  ii.,  where  Friar  John  returns  to  L.  and 
announces  the  non-delivery  of  the  letter  to  R.     See  11.  2474-2502. 

2  In  Sh.  R.  sends  Balthasar  to  do  this. 

3  In  Sh.  R.  and  Balthasar  (see  note  631)  have  apparently  left  together. 

4  In  Sh.  alone,  P.  and  his  page  are  already  there  when  R.  and  his 
man  enter.     V.  iii.  i. 

5  In  Sh.,   he    opens  the    tomb  himself  after  Balthasar  has  retired, 
V.  iii.  48-9.     R.  in  Sh.  professes  to  be  opening  the  vault  to  take  a 
precious  ring  from  J.'s  finger,  V.  iii.  30.     Note  that  J.  herself  had  sent 
R.  a  ring  in  III.  iii.  143. 

6  P.  at  this  point  comes  forward  and  challenges  R.  in  Sh.,  and  R. 
does  not  descend  until  he  has  fought  and  slain  P.,  and  goes  to  lay  him 
in  the  tomb. 

7  In  Sh.  R.  makes  his  long  speech  before  he  takes  the  poison,  and 
dies  immediately  after. 

8  This,  in  Sh.,  includes  an  account  of  the  killing  of  P..  which  Bal 
thasar  imagines  he  has  dreamt.     V.  iii.  139. 

9  In  Sh.  the  friar  finds  P.  too. 


APPENDIX   I 


2789 

V. 

iii. 

I701 

2829 

2792 

V. 

iii. 

170 

2837 

2793 

V. 

iii. 

158 

2955 

2799 

V. 

iii. 

170-1  2 

2971 

2800 

V. 

iii. 

1723        2974 

2806 

V. 

iii. 

182,  184    |  2977 

28074 

2985 

2809 

V. 

iii. 

191-3 

3006 

2821 

V. 

iii. 

216-22 

3013 

Cf. 

V. 

iii.  1982      3018 

V.  iii.  228 6 

2837-970  V.  iii.  229-697 
V.  ii.  i 
V.  iii.  271  8 
V.  iii.  275 
V.  iii.  286 
Cf.V.  iii.  292-59 
V.  iii.  296 
V.  iii.  299-303 


"    i  Notice  how  swift  J.  is  to  act  in  Sh.  on  realising  the  situation.     In 
Br.  she  first  makes  lengthy  speeches.     See  also  2547,  Appendix  I. 

2  In  Sh.  the  watch  are  led  in  by  P.'s  page.      See  note   to    2971, 
Appendix  I. 

3  And  P.,  too,  in  Sh. 

4  In  Sh.  they  are  not  put  in  a  dungeon;  the  Prince  enters  immedi 
ately  after  the  watchmen  find  the  bodies  :  it  is  then  growing  morning 
(V.  iii.  189),  and  the  trial  proceeds  after  the  entry  of  the  Capulets  and 
Montagues. 

5  See  note  to  2807. 

6  In  Br.,  as  in  Sh.,  Escalus  is  evidently  the  judge.     See  2985,  Ap 
pendix  I. 

7  In  Sh.  says  L. : 

"  I  will  be  brief,  for  my  short  date  of  breath 
Is  not  so  long  as  is  a  tedious  tale." 

8  And  also  P.'s  page  in  Sh.,  V.  iii.  279,  who  raised  the  watch. 

9  There  is  none  of  this  judgment  and  punishment  in  Sh.,  nor  are  we 
told  of  L.'s  subsequent  fate.     Br.  here  simply  follows  Boaistuau. 

10  In  Sh.  Montague  says  of  J. : 

"  I  will  raise  her  statue  in  pure  gold." — V.  iii.  299. 


APPENDIX   II 


COMMENTS  ON  THE  TEXT 
SHOWING  BROOKE'S  USE  OF  BOAISTUAU  AND 

CHAUCER 

[For  the  cases  in  which  there  is  no  corresponding  passage 
in  Boaistuau  for  Brooke's  lines  or  phrases,  and  where  Brooke 
must  have  borrowed  from  Chaucer's  Troilus  and  Criseyde,  see 
notes  on  11.  332,  435,  613,  645,  824,  920  (chiding  Titan), 
1077,  1080,  1287,  1291-7,  1325-48,  1353,  1381,  1403-7, 

1537,  1703*  1744,  1750,  1756,  1758,  I767-70»  '928  (*)• 
For  cases  in  which  Boaistuau's  prose  has  been  altered  or 
modified  in  translation,  through  Chaucer  influence,  see  those 
on  11.  271  (?),  314,  457,  500,  909,  924.  Similarities  in 
phrase  or  incident  which  are  not  due  to  borrowing  by 
Brooke  and  which  go  back  to  the  Italian  sources  will  be 
found  in  11.  98,  119,  137,  211,  521,  841,  891-2,  929-32, 
1046,  1091,  1161,  1173,  1283,  1532,  1546,  1616,  1673, 
1715,  1802,  1844,  2271,  2281,  2301,  2393.  The  apparent 
influence  of  the  lost  earlier  English  play  (?)  is  shown  in 
11.  1287,  2291.  The  similarity  between  Chaucer  and 
Shakspere,  pointed  out  in  1.  2547,  is  doubtless  the  result  of 
the  independent  employment  of  dramatic  irony  in  the  poem 
and  the  play.] 


148  APPENDIX   II 

ADDRESS  TO  THE  READER. 

.  ' .  .  .  the  mountain  bear/  etc.  An  example  of  that 
curious  natural  history  which  became  one  of  the  character 
istics  of  Euphuism.  Sh.  may  have  had  this  in  mind  in 
writing  3  Henry  VI.,  III.,  ii. : 

"An  unlick'd  bear-whelp, 
That  carries  no  impression  like  the  dam," — 

but  the  idea  was  common,  and  occurs  in  Jonson,  etc. 
Turbervile,  however,  certainly  copied  Brooke  in  his 
Epilogue  to  Epigrams,  Epitaphs,  Songs,  etc.,  1570,  p.  145  : 

"  The  worst  [of  his  works]  he  [the  author]  made 

in  covert  scroll  to  lurk 
Until  the  Bear  were  overlicked  afresh, 
For  why  indeed  this  hasty  hatched  work, 
Resembleth  much  the  shapeless  lump  of  flesh 
That  Bears  bring  forth,"  etc. 

.  '  the  eldest  of  them/  Not  very  old  :  see  Introduc 
tion,  Date  of  the  Poem. 

.  '  the  rest  .  .  .  awhile  shall  lurk.'  We  know  of  only 
one  more :  see  Introduction,  Author  of  the  Poem. 

THE  TEXT. 

98.  So  with  Troil.  in  his  love-sorrow  over  Cris. : 

"  This  woful  wight,  this  Troilus,  that  felte 
His  freend  Pandare  y-comen  him  to  see, 
Gan  as  the  sno<w  ayein  the  sonne  melte,"  etc. 

TrciL,  IV.,  365. 

Cf.  also  Troil.,  I.,  524,  when  Cris.  is  cold  towards  Troil., 
and  Pand.  says : 

"  Thy  lady  is,  as  frost  in  winter  mone, 
And  thou  fordoon,  as  snow  injyr  is  sone." 


APPENDIX   II  149 

Boaistuau,  following  Bandello,  has  here,  p.  41  :  [R]  se 
fondolt  peu  a  peu  comtne  la  neige  au  solell. 

119.  Troilus  is  learned,  too;  see  Note  to  1.  1381, 
Appendix  II.  Boaistuau  has,  p.  \\b :  tu  cs  bien  instruict  aux 
kttres. 

137.  Pand.  gives  Troil.,  bereaved  of  Cris.,  the  same 
advice : 

"  And  over  al  this,  as  thou  wel  wost:thy-selve, 
This  town  is  ful  of  ladies  al  aboute  5 
And  to  my  doom,  fairer  than  swiche  twelve 
As  ever  she  was,"  etc. — Trail.,  IV.,  400. 

162.  Brooke  alone  in  the  old  versions  has  this  written 
invitation. 

207-9. 

"  And  as  out  of  a  plank  a  nail  a  nail  doth  drive, 
So  novel  love  out  of  the  mind  the  ancient  love  doth  rive. 
This  sudden  kindled  fire  in  time  is  wox  so  great,"  etc. 

From  Cicero,  Tusc.,  iv.,  35,  75  :  " Etiam  novo  quidam  amore 
veterem  amorem,  tanquam  clavo  clavum,  eiiclundum  putant"  cf, 
Ovid,  Remed.  Amor.  462, "  Successor?  novo  vincituromnis  amor." 
7m/.,  IV.,  41 5: 

"  The  newe  love  out  chaceth  ofte  the  olde  j" 
and  cf.  422  : 

"  The  newe  love,  labour  or  other  wo, 
Or  elles  selde  seinge  of  a  wight, 
Don  olde  affecciouns  alle  over-go. 

Two  Gent,  of  Verona,  I.,  iv. : 

"  Even  as  one  heat  another  heat  expels, 
Or  as  one  nail  by  strength  drives  out  another." 

Rom.  &  Jul.t  I.,  ii.,  46  : 

"  Tut,  man,  one  fire  burns  out  another's  burning, 
One  pain  is  lessen'd  by  another's  anguish"  etc. 


150  APPENDIX   II 

King  John,  III.,  i.,  270: 

"  And  falsehood  falsehood  cures ;  as  fire  cools  fire 
Within  the  scorched  veins  of  one  new  burn'd." 

JuL  Ctesar,  III.,  i. : 

"As  fire  drives  out  fire,  so  pity  pity." 

Coriolanus,  IV.,  vii.,  54  : 

"  One  fire  drives  out  one  fire  ;  one  nail,  one  nail." 
This  is  the  nearest  form  to  Brooke. 

Boaistuau  has  here,  p.  43  :  I* amour  qu'ilportoit  a  sa  premiere 
damolselle  demoura  valncu  par  ce  nouueaujeu,  etc. 

211.  Very  common  in  Troll.  See  I.,  416;  II.,  1-7; 
V.,  638  :  but  in  this  case  from  Boaistuau,  p.  43,  "Le  ieune 
Rhomeo  doncques  se  sentant  agite  de  ccste  nouuelle  tepeste"  etc. 

253.  The  only  instance  of  Romeo  in  this  poem,  used  here 
for  purposes  of  rhyme,  the  usual  form  being  Romeus.    Painter 
generally   spells   Rhomeo,  after    Boaistuau,    but   has  Romeo, 
p.  103/10  (Daniel's  edition). 

254.  Boaistuau  says  of  Mercutio,  p.  44:  vn  autre  appelle 
Marcucio  [Marcuccio  Guercio  in  Da  Porto,  and  Marcuccio 
in  Bandello]  courtisan  fort  ayme  de  tons,  lequel  a  cause  de  ses 

jacecies  &  gentillesses  estoit  bien  recue  en  toutes  compaignies,  and 
goes  on  as  Br.  Here  R.  takes  J.'s  Hand  seeing  that  Mer 
cutio  has  the  other. 

271.  So  Diomed  in  Troll,  changes  when  wooing  Cris.,  see 
v.,  925.  J.  again  refers  to  this  "changing  of  his  hue," 
1.  418,  see  Note  to  that  line.  Boaistuau  mentions  only, 
sa  mutation  de  couleur,  p.  44  £. 

314.  In  Trot/.  Cris.  will  only  consent  to  love  Troil.  if  it 
be  in  keeping  with  her  honour ;  she  says  this  many  times : 
and  J.  insists  on  the  same  thing,  see  1.  532  and  Notes, 
Appendix  II.  J.  uses  the  same  words  as  Cris.,  copied  by 
Br.— 


APPENDIX   II  151 

Trail.,  II.,  480 : 

"  but  elles  wol  I  fonde, 

Myn  honour  sauf,  plese  him  from  day  to  day"  j 
and  III.,  159: 

"she     .     .     . 
.     .     .     seyde  him  softely, 
'  Myn  honour  sauf,  I  wol  wel  trewely,' "  etc. 

In  Boaistuau  at  this  point  J.  says,  p.  45  £  :  "  ie  suts  vostre, 
estat  preste  &  disposes  de  vous  obeyr  en  tout  ce  que  Vhonneur 
pourra  soujfrir" 

33*. 
"  Of  both  the  ills  to  choose  the  less,  I  ween  the  choice  were 

hard." 
From  Troll,  II.,  470  : 

"  Of  harmes  two,  the  lease  is  for  to  chese." 

393.  "A  thousand  stories  more,  to  teach  me  to  beware." 
From  Trot/.,  III.,  297  : 

**  A  thousand  olde  stories  thee  alegge 
Of  wommen  lost,  thorugh  fals  and  foles  host." 

417.  See  Note  to  271.  These  outward  signs  of  love 
are  frequent  in  Sh.'s  works.  Cf.  \ Ophelia's  description  of 
Hamlet  in  what  Polonius  calls  "the  very  ecstacy  of  love," 
Hamlet  It.,  i. ;  Rosalind's  description  of  a  lover,  As  Tou 
Like  //,  III.,  ii.,  etc.  Boaistuau  says  here,  p.  47  :  Car  i  ay 
experimete  tant  de  mutations  de  couleur  en  /uy,  tors  qitil  parloit  a 
moy,  &  lyay  veu  tant  transports  &  hors  de  soy,  etc. 

427.  See  11.  608-9,  !559- 

435.  Br.'s  sunrises  apparently  come  from  Trail.,  where 
there  are  several  descriptions  which  he  might  have  borrowed  : 
Troi/.,  II.,  54: 

"  Whan  Phebus  doth  his  brighte  bemes  sprede 
Right  in  the  whyte  Bole,"  etc., 

i.e.,  in  the  White  Bull  or  Taurus. — Skeat,  p.  467.     See  Note 
to  1703. 


152  APPENDIX   II 

457- 
"  And  when  on  earth  the  Night  her  mantle  black  hath  spread." 

Trolly  III.,  1429: 

"  O  blake  night,  as  folk  in  bokes  rede, 
That  shapen  art  by  God  this  world  to  hyde 
At  certeyn  tymes  with  thy  derke  ivede" 

Boaistuau  says,  p.  47  b :  mats  si  tost  que  la  nuict  auec  son  brun 
manteau  auolt  couuert  la  terre,  etc. 

R.  &  /.,  II.,  ii,  75  : 

"  I  have  night's  cloak  to  hide  me  from  their  eyes." 

III.,  ii.,  10-15  : 

"  Come,  civil  night, 
Thou  sober-suited  matron,  all  in  black, 

Hood  my  unmann'd  blood  bating  in  my  cheeks 
With  thy  black  mantle" 

500.  Frequently  mentioned  in  Troll. ;  cf.,  III.,  733,  etc. 
In  Boaistuau  he  says  simply,  p.  48  :  "  Ma  dame,  .  .  .  ma  vie 
est  en  la  main  de  Dieu,  de  laquelle  luy  seul  peult  disposer. 

521.  Troll,  contains  frequent  instances  of  characters 
threatening  to  commit  suicide,  and  Br.  has  several  after  this. 

532.  This  .point  is  brought  out  often  in  Troll.,  cf.,  I., 
1030-6;  II.,  351-57.  See  Note  to  314,  Appendix  II. 
But  Br.  follows  Boaistuau  here,  who  says,  p.  48  b :  si  vons 
pretendez  autre  prluaute  de  moy  que  Fhonneur  ne  le  commande, 
vous  vluez  en  tres  grand  erreur"  etc. 

566.  Boaistuau  says,  p.  49^:  "  Ce  frere  Laurens  .  .  . 
estolt  vn  anclen  Docteur  en  Theologle,  de  l*ordre  des  freres 
Mineurs"  etc. 

609.  See  11.  427,  1559. 

611.  The  day's  delay  not  in  Sh.,  because  of  the  time- 
compression. 


INTRODUCTION  lv 

Shakspere's  Use  of  Brooke. — It  is  important  to 

notice  how  completely  the  faults  which  disfigure  Brooke's 
work  are  absent  from  that  of  Shakspere.  The  intellect  of 
our  great  poet,  always  shaping  its  materials  for  dramatic 
purposes,  appreciated  intuitively  that  such  faults  would  be 
fatal  to  any  stage  production.  Everything  artificial  had  to 
be  discarded  ;  everything  adventitious,  ornate  speeches,  etc., 
had  to  be  put  aside.  The  swift  and  eager  love  of  Romeo 
and  Juliet,  with  its  natural  attributes  of  changing  emotions, 
had  to  be  presented  with  all  its  pure  physical  and  spiritual 
life  and  energy.  One  might  say,  in  comparing  the  products 
of  each  man's  labour,  that  a  process  of  transmutation  had 
taken  place  ;  the  whole  story  was  changed  in  the  play,  given 
a  new  impulse,  and  a  deep  and  lasting  significance :  in  a 
phrase,  Shakspere  vitalised  Brooke's  work. 

Romeo  is  not  the  earliest  play  connected  with  Brooke's 
poem.  All  students  of  Shakspere  are  aware  of  the  many 
similarities  existing  between  The  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona 
and  Romeo  and  Juliet.  It  has  even  been  denied  that 
Shakspere  was  the  author  of  the  former  play,  but  the 
internal  evidence  which  we  shall  discuss,  demonstrates 
clearly  that  its  author  was  also  the  author  of  Romeo,  and  that 
he  drew  much  from  Brooke's  Romeus.  We  have  not  here 
the  space,  and  are  not  required,  to  detail  all  the  origins  of 
The  Two  Gentlemen  ;  we  shall  simply  point  out  the  connexion 
between  that  play  and  Romeo. 

The  first  point  is  the  connexion  between  the  characters. 
Many  of  the  characters  in  The  Two  Gentlemen  are  earlier 


Ivi  INTRODUCTION 

sketches  cf  those  which  find  fuller  being  in  Romeo.  Julia 
is  Juliet  in  comedy  ;  Juliet  is  Julia  with  all  the  fresh 
emotions  of  youth  in  play,  isolated  in  an  unsympathetic 
world  which  is  to  crush  her.  Mercutio  (Phebidas  in 
Struijs)  probably  came  from  the  lost  source,  but  one 
element  of  his  character,  his  contempt  for  love,  has  its 
counterpart  in  Valentino,  whose  talk  with  the  love-sick 
Proteus  recalls  the  similar  scenes  between  Benvolio  and 
Mercutio  and  Romeo.  Antonio's  concern  about  Proteus 
is  like  old  Montague's  about  Romeo,  and  as  Proteus'  love 
turns  from  Julia  to  Silvia,  so  Romeo's  turns  from  Rosaline 
to  Juliet.  Valentine's  wooing  is  endangered,  like  Romeo's 
relations  with  Juliet,  by  her  father's  desire  to  wed  Silvia  to 
another  man  ;  and  Thurio  is  another  county  Paris.  The 
old  Duke's  words  to  Silvia  on  her  dislike  of  Thurio  are 
forerunners  of  Capulet's  passionate  outburst  to  Juliet,  un 
willing  to  wed  Paris.  Valentine,  like  Romeo,  was  to  have 
ascended  to  his  love's  window  by  means  of  a  rope  ladder, 
but  was  discovered.  Valentine,  too,  was  banished,  and  was 
forced  to  leave  his  lady ;  he  went  to  Mantua,  and  dared  not 
return  on  pain  of  death.  When  asked  by  the  outlaws  the 
cause  of  his  banishment  he  replied  that  he  had  killed  a  man 
in  honourable  fight — an  evident  reminiscence  of  the  slaying 
of  Tybalt.  Proteus'  advice  to  Valentine  on  his  banishment 
recalls  Laurence's  to  Romeo.  Silvia  herself  planned  escape 
to  avoid  "  a  most  unholy  match,"  and  met  her  helper  at  a 
friar's  cell,  whereto  she  had  gone  ostensibly  for  the  purpose 
of  confession.  A  Friar  Laurence  is  mentioned  in  the  text. 


APPENDIX   II  153 

613.  From  Troll.,  I.,  1086: 

"  Now  lat  us  stinte  of  Troilus  a  stounde, 
That  fareth  lyk  a  man  that  hurt  is  sore, 
And  is  somdel  of  akinge  of  his  wounde 
Y-lissed  well,  but  heled  no  del  more  : 
And,  as  an  esy  pacient,  the  lore 
Abit  of  him  that  gooth  aboute  his  cure  ; 
And  thus  he  dryveth  forth  his  aventure. 

645.  "golden  locks."  As  Cris.  in  Troll.  See  Note  to 
1077,  Appendix  II. 

746.  pres  tfvne  heure  in  Boaistuau,  p.  51. 

774.  Boaistuau  describes  the  ladder,  p.  52:  Vne  eschelle 
da  (sic)  cordes  auec  deux  forts  crochets  defer,  attachez  aux  deux 
bouts,  and  adds  that  such  ladders  were  fort  frequentes  en  Italie. 

800.  See  Note  to  211,  Appendix  II. 

824.  Br.  says  that  the  lovers  would  have  brought  night 
over  the  earth  if  they  might  have  guided  the  heavens  like 
Alcmene.  Alcmene,  of  course,  had  no  power  over  the 
heavens ;  it  was  Jove  who  prolonged  the  night  for  her  sake. 
Now,  Boaistuau  has  here,  pp.  52-3  :  de  sorte  que  s'ils  eussent 
peu  commander  au  del  comme  Josue fist  au  soleil,  la  terre  eust  este 
blen  tost  couuerte  de  tres  obscures  tenebres.  Br.,  therefore,  took 
Chaucer's  lines,  III.,  1427-8  : 

"  O  night,  alias  !  why  niltow  over  us  hove, 

As  longe  as  whanne  Almena  lay  by  Jove?" — 

said,  too,  in  connexion  with  the  lovers'  meeting  at  night — 
and  substituted  Alcmene,  or,  as  he  has  it,  Alcume,  for  Josue, 
keeping,  however,  the  context.  See  Glossary,  and  Note  to 
1.  1758,  Appendix  II. 

841.  Cf.  the  meeting  and  embraces  of  Troil.  and  Cris., 
Troll.  IV.,  1128,  etc. 

891-2. 

'  Who  takes  not  time/  quoth  she,  *  when  time  well  offered  is, 
Another  time  shall  seek  for  time,  and  yet  of  time  shall  miss.' 


* 

;<-•  • -\ 


154  APPENDIX   II 

So  Cris.,  at  her  final  meeting  with  Troil.  at  night,  says, 
IV.,  1611: 

"And  thenketh  wel,  that  som  tyme  it  is  wit 
To  spend  a  tyme,  a  tyme  for  to  winne." 

C/.  also  IV.,  1283.     Boaistuau  has  here,  p.  ^b\  Qui  ateps 
a  propos  y  le  pert,  trop  tard  le  rec'ouure. 

909,  924.  Probably  from  Trolly  III.,  1310  seq. : 

"  Of  hir  delyt,  or  loyes  oon  the  leste 
Were  impossible  to  my  wit  to  seye  ; 
But  iuggeth,  ye  that  han  ben  at  the  feste, 
Of  swich  gladnesse,  if  that  hem  liste  pleye  ! 
I  can  no  more,  but  thus  thise  ilke  tweye 
That  night,  be-twixen  dreed  and  sikernesse, 
Felten  in  love  the  grete  worthinesse." 

and  1331 : 

"  For  myne  wordes,  here  and  every  part, 
I  speke  hem  alle  under  correcioun 
Of  yow,  that  feling  han  in  loves  art,"  etc. 

Cf.  also,  II.,  19-21  ;  III.,  1693.     Boaistuau  has,  p.  54:  que 
peuuent  iuger  cenlx  qui  ont  experimentc  semb tables  \dellc  esf\ 

920.  So  Troil.  and  Cris.  are  parted  by  dawning,  III., 
1415,  and  Troil.  chides  day  and  Titan,  III.,  1450,  1464. 
See  Notes  to  1756,  1758,  Appendix  II. 

929-32.  See  Notes  to  815,  and  Arg.,  Appendix  I.  So 
Troil.  and  Cris.  arrange  to  meet  every  night.  Troll.,  III., 
1710: 

"  And  whanne  hir  speche  doon  was  and  hir  chere, 
They  twinne  anoon  as  they  were  wont  to  done, 
And  setten  tyme  of  meting  eft  y-fere  ; 
And  many  a  night  they  wroughte  in  this  manere." 

949.  See  Notes  to  8 1 5  and  Arg.,  Appendix  I. 
1046.  In  Troil.  it  is  Cris.  who  is  exiled  from  her  lover; 
in  Floris  and  Blanchefleur  it  is  Floris. 


APPENDIX   II  155 

1077.  Cf.  the  actions  and  lamentations  of  Cris.,  Trot!., 
IV.,  736: 

'*  Hir  ounded  heer,  that  sonnish  was  of  hewe, 
She  rente,  and  eek  hir  fingres  longe  and  smale, 
She  wrong  ful  ofte,  and  bad  god  on  hir  rewe,"  etc. 

See  also  1.  2723. 

1080.  So  Chaucer  cannot  tell  Cris.'s  plaint,  Troit.,  IV., 
799 : 

"  How  mighte  it  ever  y-red  ben  or  y-songe, 
The  pleynte  that  she  made  in  hir  distresse  ? 
I  noot ;  but,  as  for  me,  my  litel  tongue, 
If  I  discreven  wolde  hir  hevinesse, 
It  sholde  make  hir  sorwe  seme  lesse,"  etc. 

1091.  Cris.,  too,  throws  herself  on  her  bed  to  make  her 
lamentations.  IV.,  733. 

1099.  Br.  follows  Boaistuau  closely  here. 

IIOI.  Cris.  faints  similarly  on  the  prospect  of  separation 
from  Troil. ;  Trot/.,  IV.,  1 156  : 

"  This  Troilus,  that  on  hir  gan  biholde, 
Clepinge  hir  name,  (and  she  lay  as  for  deed, 
With-oute  answere,  and  felte  hir  limes  colde, 
Hir  eyen  throwen  upward  to  hir  heed),"  etc. 

and  IV.,  1 1 68: 

"  With  sorwful  voys,  and  herte  of  blisse  al  bare, 
He  seyde  how  she  was  fro  this  world  y-fare  ! " 

1 173.  Troil.  also  swoons  in  his  love-troubles,  III.,  1092  ; 
and  he  is  revived  as  N.  revives  J.,  III.,  1114. 

1283.  So  Pandarus  arranges  the  final  night-meeting  of 
Troil.  and  Cris.,  IV.,  887  : 

"  And  semeth  me  that  he  desyreth  fawe 
With  yow  to  been  al  night,  for  to  devyse  ;" 

and  he  says  to  Troil.,  IV.,  1114: 

"  For  which  my  counseil  is,  whan  it  is  night, 
Thou  to  hir  go,  and  make  of  this  an  ende." 


1 56  APPENDIX   II 

1287.  All  this  scene  between  L.  and  R.  (1287-1507)  is 
not  in  Boaistuau,  and  was  taken  by  Br.  from  the  earlier  play 
and  amplified  from  Chaucer. 

1291-7.  This  is  Troil.'s  condition  when  he  hears  of  his 
separation  from  Cris.,  IV.,  239 : 

"  Right  as  the  wilde  bole  biginneth  springe 
Now  here,  now  there,  y-darted  to  the  herte, 
And  of  his  deeth  roreth  in  compleyninge, 
Right  so  gan  he  aboute  the  chaumbre  sterte, 
Smyting  his  brest  ay  with  his  festes  smerte  : 
His  heed  to  the  ival,  his  body  to  the  grounde 
Ful  ofte  he  sivapte,  him-sel'ven  to  confounded 

IV.,  250: 

"  O  deeth,  alias  !  why  niltow  do  me  deye  ?" 

1325-48.  From  Troll.,  V.,  204,  when  Troil.  is  bereft  of 
Cris. : 

"And  there  his  sorwes  that  he  spared  hadde 
He  yaf  an  issue  large,  and  *  Deeth  !  "  he  cryde  j 
And  in  his  throwes  frenetyk  and  madde 
He  cursed  Jove,  Apollo,  and  eek  Cupyde, 
He  cursed  Ceres,  Bacus,  and  Cipryde, 
His  burthe,  him-self,  his  fate,  and  eek  nature, 
And,  save  his  lady,  every  creature." 

Cf.  also  III.,  1072-6. 

I353- 

" '  Art  thou,'  quoth  he,  *  a  man  ?    Thy  shape  saith,  so  thou  art ; 
Thy  crying,  and  thy  weeping  eyes  denote  a  woman's  heart. 
For  manly  reason  is  quite  from  off  thy  mind  outchased, 
And  in  her  stead  affections  lewd  and  fancies  highly  placed : 
So  that  I  stood  in  doubt,  this  hour,  at  the  least, 
If  thou  a  man  or  woman  wert,  or  else  a  brutish  beast. 
A  wise  man  in  the  midst  of  troubles  and  distress 
Still  stands  not  wailing  present  harm,  but  seeks  his  harm's 
redress." 


APPENDIX   II 


157 


Pandarus  reproves  Troll. :  so,  Troll.,  III.,  1098  : 

"O  theef,  is  this  a  marines  herte  ? 
And  of  he  rente  al  to  his  bare  sherte." 

and  Cris.  says,  III.,  1 126  : 

"  is  this  a  mannes  game  ? 
What,  Troilus  !  wol  ye  do  thus,  for  shame?" 

The  last  two  lines  are  evidently  copied  in  Richard II.,  III.,  ii. : 

"  My  lord,  wise  men  ne'er  wail  their  present  woes, 
But  presently  prevent  the  ways  to  wail." 

1361.  From  Boaistuau,  p.  59^.  Cf.  the  similar  storm  in 
Greene's  Pandosto,  p.  69,  "  Shakespeare  Classics,"  2. 

1381.  Bee  also  1.  1413.  When  Pandarus  reproves  Troil. 
sorrowing  over  his  loss  of  Cris.,  he  says,  Trot/.,  IV.,  1086  : 

" '  O  mighty  God,'  quod  Pandarus,  *  in  trone, 
Ey  !  who  seigh  ever  a  wys  man  faren  so  ? '  " 

Cf.  also  Troll.,  I.,  99 1 . 

1403-7.  See  11.  1470,  1546,  1668,  and  cf.  Troll.,  I.,  848: 

"For  ifhir  wheel  stinte  any-thing  to  torne, 
Than  cessed  the  Fortune  anoon  to  be  : 
Now,  sith  her  wheel  by  no  wey  may  soiorne, 
What  wostow  if  hir  mutabilitee 
Right  as  thy-selven  list,  wol  doon  by  thee,"  etc. 

1532.  Br.'s  R.  and  J.  resemble  in  almost  every  way 
Chaucer's  Troil.  and  Cris.  in  this,  their  final  night  together. 
As  R.  and  J.  embrace  and  are  mute,  so  Troll,  and  Cris., 
IV.,  1130: 

"  That  neither  of  hem  other  mighte  grete, 
But  hem  in  armes  toke  and  after  kiste. 
The  lasse  wofulle  of  hem  bothe  niste 
Wher  that  he  was,  ne  mighte  o  word  out-bringe, 
As  I  seyde  erst,  for  wo  and  for  sobbinge,"  etc. 

Br.  says  R.  and  J.  stood  mute  the  eighth  part  of  an  hour; 
Boaistuau  says  vn  gros  quart  d'heure,  p.  60. 


158  APPENDIX   II 

1537.  So  Cris.  leans  her  head  on  Troil. 's  breast,  IV.,  1 1 49 : 
"  But  on  his  breast  her  head  doth  joyless  Juliet  lay, 
And  on  her  slender  neck  his  chin  doth  ruthful  Romeus  stay." 
"  *  O  Jove,  I  deye,  and  mercy  I  beseche  ! 
Help,  Troilus  !'  and  ther-with-al  hir  face 
Upon  his  brest  she  leyde,  and  loste  speche." 
1546.  Such  laments  over  the  action  of  Fortune  are  a 
constant  feature  of  euphuistic  books,  and  exceedingly  common 
in  Troil^  but  taken  here  from  Boaistuau,  p.  60.     See  Note  to 
1403-7,  Appendix  II. 
1559.  See  11.  427,  609. 
1603.  See  $21,  Appendix  II. 

1616.  So  Troil.  wishes  to  accompany  Cris.  when   the 
time  comes  for  parting,  IV.,  1506  : 

*'  I  mene  this,  that  sin  we  mowe  er  day 
Wei  stele  away,  and  been  to-gider  so, 
What  wit  were  it  to  putten  in  assay, 
In  case  ye  sholden  to  your  fader  go 
If  that  ye  mighte  come  ayein  or  no  ? " 

1668.   Cf.    1403-7,  1470,  etc. 

1673.  See  1.  1504.     So  Cris.  promises  to  return  to  Troil. 
in  ten  days. 

1703.  These  sunrises  seem  to  come  from  Troll.;  cf.  III., 
1415: 

'*  But  when  the  cok,  comune  astrologer, 
Gan  on  his  brest  to  bete,  and  after  crowe, 
And  Lucifer,  the  dayes  messager, 
Gan  for  to  ryse,  and  out  hir  bemes  throwe,"  etc. 

This  is  at  a  parting  of  Cris.  and  Troil.     See  Note  to  435, 
Appendix  II. 

1715.  Cf.  the  last  parting  of  Troil.  and  Cris.,  IV.,  1688  : 
"  And  after  that  they  longe  y-pleyned  hadde, 
And  ofte  y-kist  and  streite  in  armes  folde, 
The  day  gan  ryse,"  etc. 


APPENDIX   II  159 

1733.  In  Boaistuau  he  parts  acoustre  en  marchant  estranger, 
p.  62  b. 

1739.  See\\.  1504,  1673. 

1 744.  No  mention  of  R.'s  sorrow  in  Boaistuau,  the  whole 
of  the  passage  (i  744-72)  being  made  up  greatly  from  Chaucer. 

1750.  So  with  Troil. :  III.,  444,  1535. 

1756.  Troil.,  III.,  1702: 

"  Quod  Troilus,  *  alias  !  now  am  I  war 
That  Pirous  and  tho  swifte  stedes  three, 
Whiche  that  drawen  forth  the  sonnes  char, 
Han  goon  som  by-path  in  despyt  of  me," — 

but  here  he  blames  the  sun  for  rising  too  early.  See  also  his 
remonstrance  with  Titan,  III.,  1464.  See  next  Note. 

1758.  Troil. 's  condition  during  his  separation  from  Cris. 
is  R.'s,  V.,  659  : 

"  The  day  is  more,  and  lenger  every  night, 
Than  they  be  wont  to  be,  him  thoughte  tho  5 
And  that  the  sonne  wente  his  course  unright 
By  lenger  wey  than  it  was  wonte  to  go  ; 
And  seyde,  *  y-wis,  me  dredeth  ever  mo, 
The  sonnes  sone,  Phaton,  be  on-lyve, 
And  that  his  fadres  cart  amis  he  dryve.'  " 

Barnaby  Riche  in  his  Farewell  to  the  Military  Profession  (1581) 
says  in  his  tale  of "  Apolonius  and  Silla,"  translated  from 
Belleforest  and  coming  from  Bandello  :  "Siluio  thus  depart 
ing  to  his  lodging,  passed  the  night  with  verie  vnquiet 
sleapes,  and  the  nexte  Mornyng  his  mynde  ran  so  much  of 
his  Supper,  that  he  neuer  cared,  neither  for  his  Breakfast,  nor 
Dinner,  and  the  daie  to  his  seemyng  passed  away  so  slowelie 
that  he  had  thought  the  statelie  Steedes  had  been  tired  that 
drawe  the  Chariot  of  the  Sunne,  or  els  some  other  losua  had 
commaunded  them  againe  to  stande,  and  wished  that  Phaeton 
had  been  there  with  a  whippe." 


160  APPENDIX   II 

1767-70.  So  Troil,  V.,  456  : 

"  These  ladies  eke  that  at  this  feste  been, 
Sin  that  he  saw  his  lady  was  a-weye, 
It  was  his  sorwe  upon  hem  for  to  seen, 
Or  for  to  here  on  instrumentz  so  pleye." 
1794. 

"  For  time  it  is  that  now  you  should  our  Tybalt's  death  forget. 
Of  whom  since  God  hath  claimed  the  life  that  was  but  lent, 
He  is  in  bliss,  ne  is  there  cause  why  you  should  thus  lament. 
You  can  not  call  him  back  with  tears  and  shriekings  shrill : 
It  is  a  fault  thus  still  to  grudge  at  God's  appointed  will." 

R.  and  /.,  III.,  v.,  70  : 

"  Evermore  weeping  for  your  cousin's  death  ? 
What,  wilt  thou  wash  him  from  his  grave  with  tears? 
An  if  thou  couldst,  thou  couldst  not  make  him  live." 

Hamlet,  I.,  ii.,  70  : 

"  Do  not  for  ever  with  thy  vailed  lids 
Seek  for  thy  noble  father  in  the  dust." 

Hamlet,  I.,  ii.,  101  : 

"Fie  !  'tis  a  fault  to  heaven; 
A  fault  against  the  dead,  a  fault  to  nature." 

In  Boaistuau  N.  says  to  J.  on  her  grief  immediately  after 
the  fray,  p.  59  :  "  Et  si  le  seigneur  Thibault  est  mort,  le  pensez 
vous  reuocquer  par  vox,  larmesl"  The  above-quoted  passage 
from  Brooke  corresponds  to  Boaistuau,  p.  63  :  "  &  mettez 
pelne  de  vous  resiouyr,  sans  plus  penser  a  la  mort  de  vostre  cousin 
Thibault,  lequel  s'il  a  pleu  a  Dleu  de  Pappeller,  le  p~esez  vous 
reuoquer par  voz  larmes  &  cotreuenir  a  sa  vohntcl" 

1802.  Cris.,  on  being  wooed  by  Diomed,  affects  to  be 
mourning  for  her  dead  husband,  V.,  973.  In  Sh.,  III.,  v., 
75,  etc.,  J.  simulates  that  her  grief  really  is  for  T.'s  death,  thus 
differing  from  her  open  confession  in  Br.  See  also  IV.,  i.,  6. 


APPENDIX   II  161 

1844.  See  Note  to  652,  Appendix  I.  [Troil.  is  afraid 
that  Calchas  will  want  to  wed  Cris.  when  she  goes  to  him, 
IV.,  1471: 

"  Ye  shal  eek  seen,  your  fader  shal  you  glose 
To  been  a  wyf,"  etc.] 

1849.  See  Note  to  1844.  In  Boaistuau,  p.  64^,  as  in 
Bandello,  p.  76,  P.  is  called  Paris,  Count  of  Lodrone. 

1862.  The  common  complaint  of  fathers  with  a  single 
daughter.  See  Gower's  Confessio  Amantls,  V.,  6764 ;  and  cf. 
Brabantio's  words,  Othello,  I.,  iii, ;  and  Leonato's  Much  Ado, 
IV.,  i.,  "  Grieved  I,  I  had  but  one  ?  "  etc. 

1867.  Notice  how  reasonable  C.  is  here  and  in  Sh.,  I.,  ii., 
7-34,  and  contrast  this  with  his  later  furious  outbursts  in 
both  poem  and  play.  Lady  C.  does  not  apparently  follow  her 
husband's  request.  See  11.  1890  and  1908.  The  discrepancy 
occurs  in  Boaistuau. 

1928. 
"And  up  unto  the  heavens  she  throws  her  wond'ring  head 

and  hands." 
C/  7Vw/.,IIL,  183: 

"  Fil  Pandarus  on  knees,  and  up  his  yen 
To  hevene  threw,  and  held  his  hondes  hye." 

1973.  See  Note   to  Arg.  and    1997,  Appendix  I.      In 
Boaistuau  he  gives  her  till  Mardy,  p.  66,  to  prepare  and 
consent,  but  the  marriage  day  is  Wednesday,  p.  6jb. 

1974.  Villafranca.  in   Bandeilo.      See  Chiarini's  reprint, 
p.  95.     In  Sh.  Free-town  is  the  prince's  judgment-place, 
I.,  i.,  109.     See  Note  to  2281,  Appendix  I. 

2099.  $fe  Note  to  1267,  Appendix  I. 
2 1 29.  See  Note  on  Sir  B.  W.  Richardson's  mandrake  in 
Introduction,  and  2341,  Appendix  I. 

2 1 94.  Boaistuau  says  she  returned  sur  les  vnze  heures,  p.  70. 

M 


i6z  APPENDIX   II 

2271.  In  Troll.  Diomed  woos  Cris.,  banished  from  Troll., 
as  P.  woos  J.  herewith  R.  banished,  V.,  120  seq.s  and  Cris. 
was  thought  in  this  manner  to  have  given  her  heart  to 
Diomed,  V.,  1050: 

"  Men  seyn,  I  not,  that  she  yaf  him  hir  herte." 

2277.  In  Boaistuau  he  spends  several  fays  so,  p.  Jib, 

2281.  Cf.  the  feast  of  Sarpedon,  Tro/7.,  V.,  435  seq. 
Boaistuau  says  at  this  point,  p.  jib:  " Villefranche duquel nous 
auons  faict  mention  estoit  vn  lieu  de  plaisance  on  le  Seigneur 
Anthonio  se  souloit  souuent  reorder,  qui  estoit  a  vn  mille  ou  deux 
de  Veronne,  ou  le  disner  se  deuoit  preparer,  combien  que  les  solen- 
nitez  requises  deussent  estre  faictes  a  Veronne" 

2291.  In  Boaistuau  the  whole  of  this  passage,  2281-23 12, 
is  missing. 

2301.  So  Diomed  tells  Cris.  that  if  she  loves  anybody  in 
Troy,  it  is  not  worth  the  while,  for  nobody  there  can  get 
out  to  reach  her.  Trot!.,  V.,  874-889. 

2393.  Troil.,  separated  from  Cris.,  is  subject  to  similar 
night-fears  and  misery,  V.,  246-66. 

2403.  Cf.  Troil. ,  V.,  274.  [The  day  must  dawn  in  Sh. 
in  IV.,  iv. ;  cf.  1.  4.] 

2474.  See  1.  2163. 

2487.  In  Boaistuau  he  is  called  Friar  Anselme,  p.  74. 
In  Br.  and  Sh.  alone  is  he  called  John. 

2508.  See  Note  to  2508,  Appendix  I.  C.,  ordering  the 
feast,  says,  IV.,  iv.,  5  : 

"  Look  to  the  baked  meatsy  good  Angelica." 

A  reversal  of  this  change  from  wedding  to  funeral  occurs  in 

Hamlet,  where  the  late  king's  funeral  swiftly  changes  into 

the  queen's  wedding,  and  Hamlet  says,  I.,  ii.,  180: 

"  Thrift,  thrift,  Horatio  !  the  funeral  baked-meats 

Did  coldly  furnish  forth  the  marriage  tables." 


APPENDIX   II  163 

2526.  In  Boaistuau,  R.  had  sent  his  man  back  on  his 
arrival  at  Mantua,  au  seruice  de  sonperc,  pp.  62 3,  75. 

2547.  Before  R.'s  man  arrives  he  speaks  of  his  sense  of  joy 
in  words  full  of  dramatic  irony,  V.,  i.,  i  : 

"  If  I  may  trust  the  flattering  truth  of  sleep, 
My  dreams  presage  some  joyful  news  at  hand  : 
My  bosom's  lord  sits  lightly  in  his  throne, 
And  all  this  day  an  unaccustomed  spirit 
Lifts  me  above  the  ground  with  cheerful  thoughts. — 
I  dreamt  my  lady  came  and  found  me  dead,"  etc. 

Cf.  with  Troll.,  V.,  1163: 

**'  Alas,  thou  seist  right  sooth,'  quod  Troilus  5 
*  But  hardely,  it  is  not  al  for  nought. 
That  in  myn  herte  I  now  reioyse  thus. 
It  is  ayein  som  good  I  have  a  thought. 
Noot  I  not  how,  but  sin  that  I  was  wrought 
Ne  felte  I  swich  a  confort,  dar  I  seye ; 
She  comth  to-night,  my  lyf,  that  dorste  I  leye  ! " 

This  is,  too,  when  Troil.,  like  R.,  is  separated  from  his  love. 
I  cannot  explain  these  two  passages  as  being  properly  con 
nected,  and  consider  their  similarity  only  as  a  remarkable 
coincidence.  To  his  Troil.  passage  Professor  Skeat  says 
(p.  500):  "  Cf.  Romeo's  speech  in  Romeo,  V.,  i.,  i-n"  : 
he,  too,  noticed  the  likeness. 

2723.  See  Note  to  1077,  Appendix  II. 


APPENDIX    III 


BROOKE'S  DEATH 


IN  a  letter  from  Henry  Cobham1  to  Challoner,  dated 
May  14,  1563,  the  writer  says:  "Sir  Thomas  Finch  was 
drowned  going  over  to  Newhaven  [i.e.,  Le  Havre]  as  knight- 
marshal  in  Sir  Adrian  Poinings'  place,  who  is  come  over. 
James  Wentworth  and  his  brother  John  were  cast  away  in 
the  same  vessel,  on  the  sands  near  Rye,  and  little  Brook  and 
some  other  petty  gentlemen."  In  view  of  the  parallel  cir 
cumstances  and  the  dates,  we  are  justified  in  believing  that 
"little  Brook"  is  our  own  Arthur  Brooke,  the  poet.  A 
fuller  account  of  the  shipwreck  is  given  in  Stow,2  where  we 
read :  "  For  you  must  vnderstand  that  Sir  Adrian  Poinings 
being  knight  Marshall,  vpon  his  return  into  England  went 
not  backe  againe :  and  then  was  Sir  Thomas  Finch  of  Kent 
appointed  to  go  ouer  to  supply  the  roomth  of  knight  Marshall, 
who  making  his  prouision  readie,  sent  over  his  brother 
Erasmus  Finch  to  haue  charge  of  his  band,  and  his  kinesman 

1  Calendar  of  S fate  Papers,  Foreign,  1563,  p.  338. 

1  am  indebted  to  the  kindness  of  Mr.  R.  B.  McKerrow  for  this  and 
the  following  reference. 

2  The  Annales  or  Genera/I  Chronicle  of  England,  by  John  Stow,  1615, 
p.  654,  col.  i. 


1 66  APPENDIX  III 

Thomas  Finch  to  be  prouost  marshal!,  whilest  he  staying  till 
he  had  every  thing  in  a  readinesse  to  passe  over  himselfe,  at 
length  embarqued  in  one  of  the  Queens  ships,  called  the 
Greyhound,  hauing  there  aboorde  with  him  besides  three 
score  and  sixe  of  his  own  retinue,  foure  and  fortie  other 
Gentlemen  ....  and  as  they  were  on  the  further  coast 
towards  Newhauen  [i.e.,  Havre],  they  were  by  contrarie 
wind  and  foule  weather  driuen  backe  againe  toward  the 
coast  of  England,  and  plying  towards  Rie,  they  forced  the 
captaine  of  the  ship,  a  very  good  seaman,1  named  William 
Maline,  and  also  the  master  and  mariners,  to  thrust  into  the 
hauen  before  the  tyde,  and  so  they  all  perished,  seuen  of  the 
meaner  sort  onely  excepted,  whereof  three  dyed  shortly  after 
they  came  on  land.  After  this  mischance,  Edmond  Randoll 
was  appointed  knight  Marshall." 

It  would  be  possible  with  these  and  other  particulars  given 
by  Stow  to  fix  the  date  of  the  shipwreck  with  a  fair  amount 
of  accuracy.  From  other  records,  however,  it  is  possible  to 
fix  the  date  with  absolute  precision.  Henry  Machyn  says 
in  his  diary : 2  "  The  xxj  day  of  Marche  tydynges  cam  to 
the  cowrt  that  on  off  the  quen's  shypes  callyd  the  Grahound 
was  lost  gohyng  to  Nuwhavyn  ;  the  captayn  was  Ser  Thomas 
Fynche  knyghtt  of  Kent,  and  ys  brodur  3  and  on  of  my  lord 
Cobhamf's]  brodur,"  etc.  And  in  a  letter  from  Cecil  to 
Sir  Thomas  Smith,4  dated  2ist  of  March,  is62[-3],  we 
read :  "  Here  hathe  happened  two  dayes  past  a  lamentable 

1  Cf.  Turbervi lie's  lines  quoted  in  the  Introduction. 

2  The  Diary  of  Henry  Machyn,  1550-1563.     Edited  by  J.  G.  Nichols, 
Camden  Soc.,  1848,  p.  302. 

3  Brother. 

4  Queen  Elizabeth  and  Her  Times,  A  Series  of  Original  Letters.     Edited 
by  T.  Wright,  1838,  Vol.  I.,  p.  133. 


APPENDIX   III  167 

chance.  Sir  Thomas  Fynche  being  appointed  to  be  Marshall 
at  Newhaven  in  the  place  of  Sir  Adryan  Poynings,  taking 
shippe  at  Rye  with  thirty  gentlemen  ....  were  lost  with 
the  shippe  besydes  the  Camber,"  etc. 

We  are  then  able  to  state  definitely  that  Brooke  was 
drowned  with  Sir  Thomas  Finch  on  March  I9th,  1563,  in 
the  ship  Greyhound  near  Rye. 


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